Crashing planes
by crazyChick7
Summary: AU of season 1. The plane crashes in phantom traveller.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, this is a really short opening chapter. I just want to see if anybody would like this. And to see if there was any point in starting a multi-length story. It is an AU. It is just a story based on an idea- what if the plane

crashes in "phantom traveller"?

Disclaimer- Of course, I own nothing.

1

Dean was frozen in fear. He was screaming. He did not care. The stupid fricking plane was crashing and HE WAS ON IT. _It seemed like such a good idea on solid ground, not when 3,000 feet in the air._ He clutched

the side of the plane. It was shaking really bad. The roaring filled his ears. He could hear screaming. He was probably screaming too. He struggled to hold on.

_God he was going to die on a fricking plane! The one time he gets on the damn things and it kills him!_

Dean wondered where Sam was. If Sam could get the Demon before they hit the ground, maybe they would not die. Come on Sammy, he urged mentally. He did have the strength to shout any encouragement. The

plane gave another lurch. Dean lost his grip. He was thrown towards the opposite wall. His back hit it with a dull thud. He weakly grasped the side of the wall, trying to hold on. He was easily thrown again. This time

he hit his back harder. He let out a string of muttered curses. Time was running out. He knew that. There was only so much air they could fall through before they had to hit something.

_Come on Sammy,_He thought weakly as he was thrown again, _I don't want to die on a plane._

_xXxXxxXxXxXXxXx_

The screams were louder. Sam tried to ignore them. Latin was hard enough to translate when he was alone. Add in the crashing plane, imminent death and earfuls of screaming- his translating skills were not up to much

today._ Come on Sam._ Outwardly his mouth spilled out latin. He was aware that it probably sounded like nonsense to anyone who was listening. Yet, they probably did not care right now. Imminent death was not

something they had to deal with every other week, unlike him. Sam ignored his pounding heart. He knelt in the aisle. The plane rocked from side to side. He could see a woman grip her seat harder and wimper. Sam

could hear a prayer being said. Sam fell forward with the force of the shake. The book slid out of his grasp again. He jumped forward himself. His arm snaked in front of him. "Come on!" Sam knew that lives were

depending on him. His life depended on his ability to finish the spell and excorcise the damn demon. His brother's life depended on him. The plan shook again violently. Sam heard several dull thuds. Sam assumed

that it was the luggage falling from the overhead compartments. It fell quickly and fast. Sam did not have time to protect himself. A tan case fell on him. It hit his head with a crack. Sam was knocked unconscious

instantly. His body went limp. He was consumed by blackness. He did not have time for a single thought. He layon the aisle floor oblivious to the crashing plane. He was oblivious to the noise. He was oblivious to the

screams. Blood pooled around his head.

_ xXxXxxXxXxXXxXx_

Dean was getting weaker. He was in pain. He was getting thrown from one side of the plane to the other. He had at least a couple of broken ribs. The roaring grew louder in his ears. He could hear the people

screaming from their seats. _It will be okay._ He wanted to tell them._ Sammy will kill the demon. The plane will not crash._ He cursed out loud. It made him feel a little better. _I am not going to die. I will not die. I_

_do not intend on dying. I have too much to do. _He added sarcastically._ Dying would take too much time. _The rumbling grew louder. The noise was deafening. There was a flash. A bright light. Dean was thrown

like a rag doll. His body flopped as it impacted. The screaming stopped. The plane crashed.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the lovely reviews. I know I have to work on a lot of aspects of the story. But I just got to say that I was sort of rushing it. Hopefully this chapter will come out better. A/N I do not know what happened with the paragraphing either!

Disclaimer- i own nothing

A/N: Please forgive any wrong details. I've lost my copy of the SN series 1 so I can not really remember. I am just guessing! Feel free to correct any mistakes. Just rememeber that they are not intentional.

Chapter 2

John Winchester slammed the door, hearing the bang with a certain satisfaction. He slid the key in the lock, turned it and threw them on the nearby table. He dropped the brown

bag he was carrying onto the bed. A smell of tacos rose from it. Johns stomach growled but he ignored the urge. He was worried about his children. He had received a voice

message a few days ago on his cell. Something about a plane with seven survivors.

Originally, it had not sounded like anything interesting. John had simply changed his outgoing message, diverting all possible jobs to his oldest, Dean. He was too busy with his

current hunt to worry about any other small fish. John was going after the biggest fish (so to speak) in the demonic sea. However, he was not heartless. He had researched the seven

"survivors" of the plane crash. He had been worried when they had started to die. _Something was going on._ He had sent his kid into the middle of it.

"What kind of father are you?" he admonished. He rubbed his hands through his hair. Sighing, he crossed the small room and sank onto the bed. Even in the dim light he could see

The standard motel print on the wall above the queen. Often, he wondered if some shop sold them in bulk for a buck a piece. That would explain why John had spent at least two

nights of every week for the past twenty years staring at the same poster.

Shaking his head, his thoughts flew back to his sons. He had laughed when he heard of the fake agents breaking into see the plane wreckage. It was typical Dean. It was typical

Sam. He reached for the remote. He flicked on the television. He was just grateful for the background noise. John Winchester hated to admit it but he was lonely and afraid. He had

heard nothing from his kids in the past day. He had been checking his voicemail non stop. He hoped he would hear Deans sarcastic voice bitching at him and boasting about their

latest success. Nothing had came. John had been close to ringing his children to check on them. However,he stopped himself every time when he was half way down his calls log. If

he called them, he would let them back into his life. This was something that he could not afford. He was in serious danger right now. The kind of danger every parent shielded their

parent from. John was no different. "_crashed..."_

Johns ears pricked up to the sound of the newscaster. He reached for the remote and quickly turned up the volume. The woman was standing in front of a blue screen. She was

blonde, petite and pretty._ Exactly __Deans type._

_"Rescue operations are still going on. So far things are not looking good. The official figures released are that there are only 4 survivors thus far. This is another in a _

_series of crashes for the doomed airline. We will __keep you posted as the story unfolds. But here it is again-Flight 886 has crashed 40 minutes into the flight in Wyoming . _

_Phone this number..."_

John did not hear anymore. It was the cursed flight. It had crashed. John calculated mentally. This was the seventh in a series of crashes. This was related. Dean and Sam had failed.

Suddenly John did not care very much about the bigger picture right then. His boys had to be in trouble. His gut instinct told him that. He also knew that the boys would be as close

to that plane as they could possibly get. He had raised them. Thatwas what he would do. He was up, keys in hand and making mental calculations. He was not far from Wyoming.

He could make it in a couple of hours. He needed to make it in a couple of hours.

_XxxXxXxXxxXxXxxxXXxXxxXxXxXxXxXX _

_A few hours later._

"Good God." John breathed as took in the debris in front of him. People were searching across the vast area the wreckage had landed. It was strangely quiet. Their heads were

bowed as they concentrated with their work. It had taken John less time than he thought to make it there. Speeding was not a crime, he reasoned, unless he got caught. Talking his

way into the crash site, for John, had been like child's play. "Flash a smile and talk the talk" as he liked to call it. Here he was- two long hours and sixteen excrutiating minutes later.

The stars in the night sky twinkled deceptively above them. John searched. He shifted through the wreckage slowly. He was getting desperate. He had checked the official lists of

the rescuers. Neither Sam nor Dean (nor any of their alias' were on either lists). JOhn knew that they were here though. He knew his kids were under the wreckage somewhere,

waiting for him to come and get them.

XxXxXXxXxXxXxXXxXxxxXXxXx

John was struggling to see. The dim light of the moon was fading and so was his hope. He needed to find his children. He needed to save them. If they were not found soon,

logically, there would be no hope. It was getting cold. He was freezing. He shivered. He lifted a fallen suitcase. His heart jumped as he uncovered an outstretched hand.

"I am coming. Hang in there." John pushed the debris off with renewed fervor.

"Sammy..."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer i own nothing!

_These are Johns thoughts_

Chapter 3

"Sammy."

John could see his head and torso. The rest of his body was covered by a particularly large piece of plane wreckage. It would have been far too heavy for him to lift. A fire

smouldered gently a few metres to his left. John could hear the voices of the rescuers calling to one another. Their voices sounded oddly far off to him. His attention was focused on

the still man in front of him. He was almost sure it was Sam. His head was slick with blood. His hair draped his face. John moved a few hairs gently, taking care not to move Sam in

case of injuries. It was him.

His face was grey. He was unconscious. John, reluctantly, placed two fingers on his sons neck. To him, Sam looked dead. The mere thought sent Johns heart hammering. _Come _

_on. Come on. _He searched for a pulse.

"You can not be dead." he whispered fearfully. He re positioned his fingers on the visible part of his sons neck.

_"If you leave this house!..." John shouted. His youngest stood defiantly in front of him. A small duffel bag lay at his feet._

_"This is not a house! It is a motel!" Sam shouted back. His eyes flickered to his older brother for assistance. Dean sat on the furthest of the two beds. His head was _

_bowed as he was clearly struggling to comprehend __what Sam had announced._

_John ran his fingers angrily through his hair, "If you are thinking of leaving this room, you are abandoning this family"_

_"Quit being so dramatic. I am going to school. That is all." Sam was sarcastic._

_John narrowed his eyes. "Go then. Be normal. Do not bother to come back. You have decided that you do not need this family, then we do not need you."_

_Sams eyes filled with hurt. "Please.." he chocked after a few seconds. John tilted his chin defiantly. He looked to Dean. "Dean, please."_

_This had been a pattern in the Winchester way of life of late. Sam and dad would argue. Words would be said. Words which were hurtful and neither meant. Sam would _

_look to Dean. Dean would wade in and stop the __fight. Tonight though, Dean ignored the whispered plea. His own heart was pounding. He could not bear to look in his _

_own brothers eyes. _

John repositioned his fingers on Sams neck for the third time. _Please. Please. I need to apologise to you Sammy. I need you to know how proud I am of you- of both of you. _

_See, you cant die. I need to tell you all __this. _His vision began to blur. He could feel the tears on his cheek. "No,no no."

John let out a loud holler a few seconds later. "HERE. HERE. OVER HERE. SOMEONES ALIVE. HE IS VERY HURT." John had finally felt the pulse. It was small and faint but

it was there. _Thank you God._

John was rewarded for his shout by the sound of people running. He shouted again and waved a hand. It took them less than half a minute to reach him. The EMT's crowded

around Sam. John barely had time to kiss his sons hand before he was pushed out.

XxxXxXxXxXXxXxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Do you know this man, Sir?"

John recognised the type of man that stood in front of him. Small and power hungry. _God, he did not have the patience for this today._

"He is my cousins kid. I am looking for his brother too." The EMT frowned. John looked back towards Sam. He was still in the same position. There was an oxygen mask over his

face, helping him to breath. A fire crew was there also. It consisted of three men, all equally balding and old. John grimaced.

"Do you know where we can contact any immediate family?"

"Why?" John demanded, "Why would you need to know?"

"Sir please."

John cracked his knuckles. "Kids parents died when they were young. I am the legal guardian." John anticipated the next question by noting the sceptical look on the older mans

face.

"No I do not have any ID on me. I kind of forgot it when I got the call that a plane my nephews are on crashed. News like that can make a guy forget things, ya know? Johns voice

was forceful. It was also sincere. It appeared to be enough for the older man who nodded.

"How is my nephew?"

"His injuries are quite extensive. He sustained a serious blow to the head. This is not the most worrying factor though."

"What?" John asked, almost fearing what the man would say.

"Your nephew has been trapped by a heavy piece of metal. The fire crew can cut it off him. However we are pretty certain that once the pressure is lifted off your nephew he will

begin to bleed internally. We can not say for certain how extensive this bleeding will be, but there is an excellent chance that he may die before we can save him."

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Okay this is just a quick chapter dealing with what happened to Dean. I hope you all like it.

Disclaimer- i own nothing!

A/N- sorry for any mistakes in referring to the episode.

chapter 4

"Stupid fricking planes," Dean mumbled as he slowly but painfully returned to consciousness. He

opened his eyes cautiously, wary at what he might find. It was completely dark and

for a scary second Dean though he had gone blind somehow. Whenever he eyes adjusted to the

darkness he realised he was not blind. He was stuck, in what seemed to be a typ of "Cave of

wreckage" The roof (which he assumed was a door from theplane was being held up, and prevented

from crushing him by a loadbaring piece of wreckage. He could feel the cool metal on his back.

"The one time I get on a fricking plane!It crashes!" Dean grumbled. Dean wondered about Sammy.

Was he okay? Was he hurt? Was he suck, exactly like he was, waiting for Dean to come and get

him? Despite the fact he had just survived a plane crash Dean was scared as hell. When it came to

his brother, he did not like questions he could not answer. He knew he had to get out of his

makeshift prison. He attempted to move.

He was rewarded for his efforts by a sharp pain blossoming along his midriff. He groaned. "Of

course it would never be that simple." He could not lift his head. He lifted his arm and began to pat

himself down. _Broken ribs are a definate. _His hand stopped around his midriff. There was

something sticking out of his body, just above his hip. "Shit." Dean gingerly

tried to pull the metal out. It did not move. Dean nearly threw up from the pain he caused. After a

few seconds, he assesed his situation. He was hidden and in deep trouble. He needed to find help but he could not move.

"Hey." Dean hollered as loud as he could. He was aware the noise would be muffled from the

outside. He pounded on the metal. He shouted again. Dean coughed. He panted.

When he could not talk he continued to pound on the metal.

"Is there someone down there?" Dean heard a muffled voice reply. There was a sliver of light shone

down in his direction.

"Hey. I am here." Dean reply has quieter. The pain in his side and chest were growing.

"ARe you okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "MY plane crashed on me. Apart from that, my day has been just peachy."

Dean heard a snort of laughter. He smiled. It calmed him slightly. "How are you physically?"

"I've been impaled. My chest hurts. It is getting hard to breath."

"Okay. I have radioed for the fire crew. They should be here soon. You need to stay awake for me."

Dean said nothing. He coughed again. He tasted the coppery tang of blood.

"Sir, sir? Stay awake. Tell me about yourself."

"Are you flirting with me." Dean asked the light sarcastically.

Dean coughed painfully. The pain in his chest was growing. The voice laughed again. Dean could not

tell if it was male or female.

"I got a question for you. Do you know, or could you find out about a guy called, " Dean struggled to

remember what aliases they'd used to get on the plane, "Sam Spencer? He is my brother. He was on

the plane with me."

The voice did not reply for a few seconds. "Sir?"

"Yeah?" Dean cried out painfully. "Is he okay?"

"They have found him. He is badly injured."

Dean closed his eyes for a second. He let out an involuntary whimper.

"How bad? HOW BAD?"

"He is still unconsciousness. Do not worry though your guardian is with him. He is looking for you by

the way."

Deans heart hammered. Who in the hell was with Sammy? He forgot his own situation for a second.

"Who is it? Describe him?NOW!"

"I do not know what he looks like. I just radioed over. He knows that you are here by the way."

"Radio again and ask them to give it to him for a second." Dean was insistent.

"I cannot do that..."

"I am the one stuck under a plane right now. You want me to stay awake?TRY" Deans head was

spinning. His breath was coming in painfully short gasps.

"Dean? Dean son? Are you there"

"Dad, where are you?" Dean could hear Johns voice floating above him. Was he hallucinating?

"I am with Sammy son. He is in a bad way. How are you doing?"

"Not good." He whispered fearfully. "What do you mean in a bad way? How bad is bad?"

"He will be fine. I will make sure of it. You need to hold on for a few more minutes son. We will get

you out and everything will be okay."

"You better take care of him."

Dean could not catch his breath. "Dad." he struggled to say between coughs.

"Dean? Dean...DEAN!"

Dean did not answer. He slipped painfully back into unconsciousness. The last thing he heard

before the darkness claimed him was the comforting sound of his dads voice. And he held onto the

knowledge he would make things better for Sam. His chances of surivival? He was not too

certain of. He was grateful for small mercies. At least Sam would be okay.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer- i own nothing

I can not believe that this story has gotten such an excellent response. Thanks for all the reviews! I hope you all like this chapter.

_A/N ITALICS ARE jOHNS THOUGHTS_

Chapter 5

"Dean?...Dean?...Dean!"

John shook the radio angrily. _Why is he not answering? _"Why is he not answering?" John's gaze flew to EMT who stood above him. The middle aged man shrugged

apologetically. John was kneeling beside Sam. Sam was still unconscious. Half his face was covered with an oxygen mask. Another EMT knelt on the other side of Sam. He

squeezed the bag, every few seconds, forcing air into Sams lungs. His hair framed his serious

face as he concentrated. Sam was covered with a blanket to protect him from the cold. John gripped his outstretched hand, which was far too cold for his liking. John tried again,

shouting into the radio. His son did not answer. The radio remained infuriatingly void of his voice. Speaking to Dean had calmed John slightly. It had allayed his fears. Dean was not

lying dead in a ditch. He was alive and waiting to be rescued. But the silence was the worst. The silence gave his mind a chance to fill in the blanks. He could imagine what was

going on on the other side of the radio. None of the images that came to his mind were good.

"Sir?" The radio was lifted gently out of his dazed hands. John grabbed for the radio. He missed and scowled.

"Give me that back. I need it to check on my son."

"Sir, there is a team looking after your other son at this point. There is nothing more than you can do for him. Your other son however." The middle aged, stocky man let the

sentence hang. He gestured at Sam. John understood the implications of the sentence. It was time to give an answer to their assessment of his Sammy's situation. It was time to face

the truth. It was time to refute the hopeful little bubble that existed inside of him. The one in which he had his children would walk out of this one, unscathed and put it down to

Winchester luck. It was time for him to face a reality that may not include his youngest if he made the wrong choice.

_Help me._ He silently pleaded. He was terrified by the mere thought of the weight on his shoulders. No parent should ever be faced with this. _Mary._ _You are not going to get him. _

_Do not t_ake _him from us._

John supposed this was a time for him to pray. Personally, he did not bother. It was up to him to protect his child- no one else. John looked at Sams face for a second. He had not

answered when he was told of his childs predicament. Instead, he had preferred to ignore the EMT and threaten them. He was pretty sure that he was this close to getting arrested.

"What are the options?"

Another EMT took over. He explained to John that they had an ambulance on standby. Once Sam was free he would be rushed to the nearest hospital (4 miles away) for the

surgery his injuries required. It all sounded very simple to JOhn expect for one blinding fact.

"You do not think that he will make it as far as the hospital though?" JOhn asked, heavily. There was a squak in the radio behind John. He heard a man murmer in reply. John did

not break his gaze. He saw the man in front of him wince.

Do you have children?" John asked abruptly.

"A boy named Chris. A girl- Becca." John saw a ghost of a smile pass along the older mans face.

_We always wanted a little sister for Sammy and Dean.Then again, Mary and I wanted so much for the boys that they never received..._

John nodded, "You would do anything in this world to protect them." The man nodded, "Please tell me what his chances are."

"Very low. About 20" Johns head bowed with the weight of the news. "i am sorry."

"But he is strong. He is young and fit." Johns voice was low. He did not look up.

The EMT laid a worn hand on Johns back. The man could not look away from the still form of his son. "With injuries like your son's, his chances are very slim no matter what way

you look at it. I am sorry."

JOhn broke down. His back shook with his sobs. "I promised her..." He whispered between sobs.

"Who?" Asked the man,confused.

"Mary, the boys mother."

"Isn't she-"

"She died when they were kids."

"God forgive me." John closed his eyes.

"Every second my son stays here, the worse his chances get. If i take him out, he has 20 percent chance of survival. What am I supposed to do."John whispered to himself.

After a minute he came to a decision. " Do it now. Get it over with. Get Sammy out."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer- i own nothing.

A/n- over 100 reviews already?Alright!! Thanks everyone. Please continue to read and enjoy (and review lol)

Chapter 6

"This is beginning to feel like a nightmare," Dean mumbled as he slowly returned to consciousness,

"The recurring kind."

He moaned as he realised he was still laying in the same position as before. His hip felt as though it

were on fire. Deans vision was fuzzy. His head was pounding.

"And here I was hoping to wake up in a nice hospital bed, doped to the eyeballs." Dean rolled his

eyes. A sharp light flashed in his eyes. He scrunched up his eyes as the light seared into them. "Hey."

Dean looked up to the source of the light. It was only then that he noticed the small hole in the

wreckage above him had got increasingly bigger. As his hearing adjusted he noted the noise above

him. It sounded as though they were trying to get him out. Dean wondered how long he had been out. He was cold and shivering. _Never a good sign._

A face appeared in the hole. It was a woman who was in her mid twenties. She had shoulder length

brown hair. She was pretty and exactly Deans type. "Sir?" Dean rolled his eyes. He recognised the

voice from before. This was the same-stupid question asking voice from before. Dean laughed

inwardly. It was nice to put a face to a voice. _Especially with a face like that._

Ignoring the searing pain in his hip he gave a small sarcastic wave. He saw an incredulous look pass

across the womans face. It was like she have never met anyone as arrogant. Then again, she had

never met Dean Winchester. She disappeared out of Deans eyeline for a second. She reappeared

and clumisly passed a blanket down. It landed uselessly on his chest. Dean raised an eyebrow and

shot the woman a look. A look that clearly said, " Fat lot of good that will do me." Dean opened the

blanket out and stretched it over him as best he could.

"Give me a break, I am kind of nervous you know."

"How is my brother?"

The woman looked confused for a second. "They are cutting him out of the wreckage now."

Dean blanched, "Cutting him out? What do you mean cutting him out?"

The woman frowned. She noted how Dean had trouble getting those paniced words out. She could

see each word was a struggle. "Calm down. You need to concentrate on yourself at the minute."

Dean chuckled. "You...you... do not know me very...well. How is Sammy?"

The woman bit her lip and she answered after a seconds hesititation. "He is in a bad way by all

accounts."

Dean closed his eyes in frustration. "Quit telling me that he is in a bad way! How...is..he?I need to

know." Dean was silenced by a fit of coughing. The hole grew sufficiently. The noise stopped for a

second. The woman looked away for a second. Dean guessed she was talking to the guys doing the

drilling. She appeared to be pleased with what she was hearing as Dean could see her nodding. She

turned and gently lowered herself into the hole and let go (it was a drop of about three metres). A

bag was passed down to her as she straightened. Dean barely saw the roughened middle aged man

smile down at him before he disappeared.

"I am Sara" she smiled as she knelt before him. Dean smiled weakly. "My brother.."

"He is not my concern at the minute." She replied curtly. She expertly straightened the blanket

around Dean. She opened her bag. She rummaged around for a second before selecting a syringe

and a glass bottle of clear liquid. She plunged the needle into the liquid and extended the syringe until

it was full. She reached for Deans arm. He jerked it back, out of her reach.

"Do you not need to make sure that I am not allergic to anything before you start injecting me with

stuff."

She raised an eyebrow and grasped his arm again, "It is a generic painkiller. You should be fine with

it until the other EMT's get here."

Dean reluctantly kept his arm still, "If you are sure."

"See? All better." She smirked as she withdrew the needle.

"Hey I may have a piece of plane sticking out of me but do not talk down to me. I want to know

lady. What is going on with my brother?"

The woman smirked, "If you must know, he is dead or very close to it."

"Wha...wha...what?" Dean spat.

"Well, if I did my job right he should be."

Stark realisation flashed through Dean. _How could he have forgotten?_ "Christo" he snarled, waiting

for a reaction. He was not disappointed. The woman fliched at the latin words.

"Hello again." Dean whispered with the bravado he did not feel.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey! Hope you all love this update! As usual, thanks for the reviews- i love them.

Disclaimer- i own nothing.

chapter 7

Sara tutted and glanced upwards towards the hole. Satisfied that the noise of the machines was loud enough to cover their conversation, she looked back to Dean. Dean followed her gaze upwards.

"Do not get any ideas about calling for help."

"Oh yeah, I am going to lie here like a good little victim."

"Your brother does not have trouble with it." Sara smiled. Dean growled at the mention of his brother. "I am going to enjoy killing you."

"You both tried that before and that did not work. The reputation of your family is so overated. Here you lie all weak and helpless. Powerless." Sara reached down to the metal protruding from Deans hip.

Dean tried to raise his arms, in resistance, but they were oddly sluggish. _What the hell was wrong with him now? _She grabbed the metal and twisted it viciously. Dean screamed

in agony. Sara smiled and played with Deans hair.

"About calling for help? Do not even try it. They will be dead before they turn on their radio." She grabbed a clump of Deans hair and lifted his head slightly. He grimaced. "Got it?"

Dean nodded. Inwardly his mind was whirling. He needed to get out of this situation. The only problem was that he did not know anyway to get rid of a demon other than exorcism.

And him and latin? Dean laughed suddenly. It escaped from his mouth involuntarily. He would be about as useful as- _A guy with a pole sticking out of side, under a plane? _An

internal voice supplied. Dean found it oddly funny. Dean could hear the demon talking to him again. He could not bring himself to listen to the bitch. He was getting weaker by the

second. He had no clue how his brother was. All he knew for certain was a demon bitches rant and his dads few words. **His dad!** Realisation flooded within him. His dad was

here. He could help him. How would he contact him though? Dean was distracted by Sara. She had another filled syringe in her hand. Dean shrunk away. She seemed delighted by

the protective movement.

"AH, are you scared little Winchester?"

Dean bristled at her patronising tone. He did not like to be talked down to. "Just sensible enough not to sit here and let you inject me with something. By the way, I am assuming that

you did not give me medicine a while ago."

Sara lowered the syringe. She shifted her weight and sat forward on her bum. "Actually it was. Dolly do-gooder had nothing interesting in her bag." She leaned a little closer. She

talked in a tone one would use when dicussing the weather. Dean said nothing. He watched her intently, urging her closer. "But you see the excellent thing about medicine is that too

much of a good thing can kill you. One minute morphine can be giving you a high, the next it can be sending you six feet under."

Dean sighed, hoping it sounded like defeatist. "That is how I am going to kill you Dean Winchester. " She leaned a fraction closer to Dean. She lifted the syringe. She paused a

second, choosing were to inject him next. It was like a macabre game. Deans eyes were on the radio tucked halfway down her jeans pocket. It was so close. Dean could see the

button to flick the radio on. _Just a little closer._ He urged.

"If I did not know any better, I would say that you were checking me out." He taunted obnoxiously.

"Such words.." she murmered, "You are well known for the trait."

Dean snorted, "It is only a small part of me bitch. Come closer and I will show you more."

"Your fighting skills? Already well reknowned. Brothers raised by their father as hunters at an early age." Sara fingered the neckace that was around Deans neck, "Brothers were a

dark past and an even darker future."

Deans interest was piqued by her seemingly offhand comment. He could not ask about it though as the radio was within his reach. He needed to act now. He could not be sure

when he would get his next chance. Dean threw his arm forward and quickly flicked the switch of the radio. He masked this movement as a lame attempt to throw her away from

him. She stumbled away but recovered quickly.

"Ah, there is some of the famed Winchester fight. I was beginning to wonder." Dean looked quickly at her jean pocket. It bulged slightly with the radio. Dean had no way of telling if

it had worked. He had no way of knowing if anybody would even hear them talking. He would just have to hope and pray that he would be heard and someone (hopefully dad)

would come and investigate. The plan had a lot of holes and possibilities for things to go wrong. Normally, he would trash a plan like that. Now, it was all he had. It needed to

work. His life depended on it.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer- I own nothing!

I really want to thank everyone for his or her reviews but I figured I would update this instead. I am

glad you like this story. I hope you all continue to read.

A/N: I am basing John's actions on what we seen in IMTOD. He is willing to do anything to save his

children.

Chapter 7

You can find many things when you are not looking for them. It is a universal truth. If you need

something, as soon as stop looking, you will find it. John Winchester realised this about five minutes

after he allowed the paramedics to begin to cut his son from the wreckage he was trapped under.

As soon as he had given his anguished consent, they had crowded around the limp form of his son.

They shouted things to each other that they, and not John, seemed to understand and obey. This flurry

of activity was lost on Sam. He lay, as still as ever, unaware of how precarious his hold on life was. It

was very likely that his youngest child was about to die in front of him. John was frozen with the

knowledge. He felt so useless. His instincts screamed at him to do something, to do anything! He had

placed a hurried kiss on Sammy's clammy hand before stepping back to let the men do their work.

He silently willed his son to hold on. Images flashed through his head. He was tormented with images

of Sammy. He saw Sammy lying in his crib, innocent to the evils of the world. He saw an older

Sammy, yet to lose his baby fat, tug his arm and whisper fearfully to him about "_the thing in the _

_closet"._ Johns knew he was crying before he felt it. He turned his head away from Sammy. He could

not bear to see his child like that. John wondered if he was in any pain. John had not thought to ask.

_Come on Sammy,_ He prayed,_ you have to help me out buddy. Hold on until we can get you to _

_surgery. Do not die. Not tonight…Please._

John looked up. His eye caught something he though he recognised. He snaked around the working

people. Ignoring the noise, he reached down and pulled familiar book from under a piece of

wreckage. He knew, instantly what had happened as he flicked through his journal. Sammy was

finishing the job and killing whatever son-of-a-bitch that needed killing. He obviously had fallen in the

middle of completing the job. The thought made him very sad. _You sent your sons on this path. _

Johns smile grew as he stopped at the right page. He thanked himself for having the foresight to write

it into the journal. _You may have caused this you stupid son of a bitch but you can still fix it._

Glancing up and noting that no one was watching, John knelt on the dust. He began to trace the

symbols needed for the spell. The ground was dry. It was difficult. A warm feeling flooded through

him. Sam would make it to surgery, at the very least. He smiled and continued to work.

XxXXxXxxXxxXxXXxx

"I have watched enough ER to know that, even with two doses that will not kill me."

Sara merely raised her eyebrow as Dean continued recklessly. "I suppose that I should cut you a bit

of slack. If it does not crash, you are useless. I get it. However, let me give you a hint. Morphine

relieves pain…dumbass." Dean's rant was cut off abruptly. Sara covered his mouth. Her eyes

narrowed. "Shut…up" she growled, "You are giving me a headache."

Dean smiled, irritating Sara even more. It was a smile that said- If I am going down, I am not going

easy. Not removing her hand, she reached over and picked up the syringe again. Her hand

disappeared into the medical bag for a second before reappearing. The syringe was full with the liquid

again. Dean's eyes followed the syringe helplessly. Sara's eyes twinkled maliciously, "I am getting

good at this, aren't I?" Dean's eyes rolled back as the drug took affect. He moaned. She released her

grip on his mouth. Dean did not react. She clicked her fingers in front of his eyes. He barely reacted.

_Nice and doped up._ She was satisfied. He was hers. She was surprised. She thought that it would be

harder than this. She had expected some sort of resistance from the man. To tell the truth, she was

rather disappointed. After all the stories about the young hunter escapades, she felt a little cheated.

Here was a person who had managed to survive an entire night locked in a house with three

poltergeists. Now, he had seemingly given up without a fight.

_What is different now?_

She was interrupted from her musings by a shout from above. The noise around her had ceased. The

hole was still only marginally wide.

"20 minutes" Shouted down a voice. _He will be dead in ten._

"Okay," she shouted back and smiled. She saw the middle-aged man smile shyly back. She resisted

the urge to roll her eyes. _Men, they were all the same._

"I know what is different this time. Your bean pole of a brother." She said aloud. She stroked Dean's

hair. She sighed and prepared another syringe.

"It is a shame Dean. We could have been great friends. But you will be too big of a pain in the ass if I

let you live." She laughed and injected another round of morphine. Dean's body shuddered again.

"I wonder if you know what you were supposed to do." She mused aloud. She fingered the necklace

again. "Probably not, knowing Daddy John. Love is a stupid human instinct. It gets you all killed. You

probably do not know why you wear this necklace. What it all means." She was reflective for a

second. "Too bad. Ignorance is bliss as they say. So at least you will die happy." She talked on,

unaware that the radio was on and unaware that someone was listening.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey all. I hope you like this chapter. As usual thanks for the reviews!

disclaimer- i own nothing!

chapter 9

"Dean." The voice was oddly familar to Dean. _It cannot be. It is impossible._ Yet as Dean opened his eyes he saw the impossible. Sure, he was still laying painfully trapped under a

whole load of wreckage. Yet, Sammy seemed to be kneeling in front of him. Dean wondered if it was another of the demon bitches tricks. That would explain her sudden

disappearance from Deans eyeline.

"Bitch, that is just low."

Sams forhead crinkled in confusion. "Why did you just call me a bitch?"

"Impersonating my brother to piss me off." Dean was insistent.

Sam rolled his eyes. He grunted, disbelieving. "Man you are dumb. Demons do not impersonate people. They possess people. You know that."

Dean saw the logic in this. It was frustratingly clear to him. However, he could not understand how Sammy was kneeling in front of him. "How..Why?"

Sam scratched his elbow. He was wearing the clothes Dean had last seen him in. He looked healthy. His hair framed his face. His eyes were bright and lively. "Oh your hallucinating

by the way." Sams voice was way too casual.

"What?"

"Think real hard Dean." Sam talked slowly, as though speaking to a five year old. Dean bristled defensively. "The drugs.." He said slowly.

Sam nodded encouragingly, "If you had taken your eyes of the nurses chests for a second and listened you would have figured that out earlier."

"So...why are you here?" Dean asked slowly "Or is it just to annoy me?"

"I am here to show you what your life has meant and how your choices have affected everyone." Sams voice took on a mysterious quality.

"seriously?!" Dean was agog.

Sam grinned and chuckled. "God, no." Dean smiled back sarcastically. Sam gave a small shrug. "It is your hallucination. I am just sort of hanging out."

Pain lanced through his side. It was fiery. Dean breathed slowly and deeply. "Tell me something?" Sam cocked his head inquisitively, "If I am hallucinating,why do I still feel in pain?"

"Because you are a dumbass." Sams answer was immediate.

"IF I was not stuck here..." Dean began to threaten.

Sam cut him off. " You'd make sarcastic comments?"

Dean laughed. "You are annoying."

"You know you love me."

"You are such a girl, you know that." Dean reached up an arm and playfully punched Sam in the stomach. Sam smiled.

Dean stopped smiling. " I am dying aren't I? She is still here, killing me?" Dean looked around the cramped space. He imagined the pretty woman kneeling over him, injecting him

slowly.

Sam did not smile. He looked away. Dean nodded, taking this reaction as a confirmation. It was a weird feeling knowing that he was completely powerless. And knowing you were

probaby about to die. He had the sudden urge to see his family again. He wanted to see his brother was faring. He did not trust his dad to take care of Sammy but His dad had

promised. _If __he does not, I will so haunt his ass!_

"Will it hurt?"

"What?" Sam's voice was low.

"Dying?"

Sam shook his head. "I do not know."

Dean smiled appreciatively. "That is okay.." After a few seconds silence he asked,

"Hey Sammy?"

"Yeah big brother?"

"If this is the end, I am glad you are here with me."

Sams eyes crinkled in concern. " I am not real, you know that Dean."

Dean did not smile. "I know. But I will take what I can get."


	10. Chapter 10

Hi. Thaks for all the reiews. I hope you all like this chapter.

Disclaimer- i own nothing

Chapter 10

John finished the protection spell. The symbols were traced and the words were chanted. All he had to do was to make sure that none of the emergency crew trampled on the

symbols. It gave him a purpose. He stood awkwardly guarding the symbols below his feet. He was not sure how he felt about trusting his sons fate to strangers and a bunch of

symbols. Sam was his kid and his responsibilty. He had spent his life watching from afar as he had his various complaints dealt with by his brother. Now he was forced to lay his

well being in someones elses hands again. He felt useless. He felt like a failure. He bit backhis natural instinct to bark ordersto the working people in front of him. He could do

nothing but wait. He could not shout orders in case it distracted them. He did not dare threaten them for that same reason. He settled for pacing. _Sammy_ He growled inhis head _You _

_better not think of dying son. I swear I will not stop until you and Dean are safe again. Even if that means dragging you back to me by the scruff of the neck and the _

_tips of your godamn angel wings._

The four men finished their work. Sam still lay on the ground under the metal. Now, however there was a clean slice through it. It seperated the cool metal into two easily liftable

pieces. According to the parademic, the next stage would be executed quickly. The metal would be lifted off. Sam would be transferred to the waiting stretcher and hooked up to

the necessary machines. It sounded simpler than it was to be. The wait between part two and three, John knew, would determine wether his son lived or died. John felt a knot

tighten in his stomach. He clenched his fists. His eyes were locked onto his sons face, which was partly covered by the oxygen bag. _Come on Sammy... Not like this...Do not _

_make me watch this Sammy... please...please._

"-relieves pain…dumbass". Deans voice was sarcastic. John wondered for a split second if he imagined it. He looked around. When the men had finished there work, a sudden

calm had surrounded the circle they had formed. Deans voice rang clearly around them. It took him a second to figure out were it was coming from. (The inquistive looks from the

guy holding the radio was a massive clue.) He reached the man in three steps.

In less than a second the radio was in his hand. He stepped backward to counter the indignant man he had stolen from. He held the radio up to his mouth. He intended to radio and

ask what he had said. John was fearful he had missed some of Deans message under the noise of the machines. His voice died in his throat when he heard another voice. It was

female and hostile. John did not like it. He held his tongue and listened. Where had this woman come from? He held his tongue and listened. He was reluctant to leave Sammy at a

crucial time.

"It is a shame Dean. We could have been great friends"

John was on his feet and running by this point. Paramedics do not talk like that. _I will be back Sammy. Do not worry._ Clutching the radio to his ear, he ran as he listened. Each

word said spurred John further. His son was in trouble. _I am coming Dean._

John assumed the worst. If he had heard the womans words, it made sense that everyone else had too.What must have sounded like an attempted murder, would have gathered a

lot of attention. John placed his sliver hope in this logic. He had no idea where he was running. He bounded over the wreckage, jumping over a small fire, towards the group of

people he could see in the distance.

"What is going on?" He wheezed as he reached the group. It was four middle aged men. They looked agitated. They looked cold. They looked scared. John did not miss the

anxious looks they kept casting behind them.

"Womans gone nuts. Police are on their way."

"Is it the woman from the radio?"

"Yeah." Answered the man in the middle. "Happened about ten minutes ago. Nothing we can do but wait."

"It is weird though." chimed in guy number three, "She seemed so nice. She talked away to the poor guy, trying to help him. Now-"

John nodded. His head was swimming. _Morons._ He clutched his journal in his right hand. He breezed past the three men in a second. One, the youngest, reached to try to stop him. He would never be a match for any Winchester. He would not stand a chance against this father, trying to save his son.

XxXxxXxXXxxXXXxXXxXXxXxxXxXxxXxXxxXx

Sara hummed. It was an odd sound. It drifted around the small enclosure. Dean was stretched out in front of her. His chest was moving slowly. His breathing was getting harder.

Sara could hear the oldest Winchester son fight for his breath. She reached behind, never taking her eyes off Dean. The sight of him, helpless, was oddly hypnotising to her. Her

hand landed on bare ground. She felt around,patting the ground slowly.

Finally, she looked around. She took her eyes of Dean. A sharp pain exploded in her cheek. She was thrown off her feet and onto her side.

"I am pretty sure this is what you were looking for." John held up the medicine bag.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

Thanks for the reviews. 

Chapter 11

There was a silence between the two. John blinked. Sara raised a hand to her cheek. The only noise

between the two was Dean's uneven breathing. John glanced down. His mask slipped for a second.

Fear and uncertainty flashed on his face for a second. Sara caught the look. She smiled as if in

triumph.

"What did you give him?" John curled his free hand into a fist. Sara's eyes flicked from his face to his

hand and back to his face. John still held the other bag in his hand.

"He is a very sick man sir. I am trying to help him." Sara gestured at his unconscious son. John was almost convinced by her _oh-help-me-i-am-a-victim_ routine. His eyes flickered down to the radio.

"IF you are going to lie, you ought to turn off your radio first." John gestured. Sara's eyes narrowed.

She was not sure if it was a trick or not. He had to be lying, she decided. There was no way that she

would have been as careless. Her hand slid gently into the pocket of her jeans. Sure enough there was

a little light on the top, indicating that the radio was on.

"You son of a-"

She muttered before she could stop herself. She managed to stop herself before she finished. But the

damage was done. John nodded. Sara got to her feet as best she could. She flicked the radio off

without looking at it. She kicked Dean petulantly. He barely reacted. He only groaned slowly. John

growled.

"Don't." He warned.

Sara smiled. She was glad to see that see was finally getting a reaction. John dropped the medicine

bag. He kicked it behind him. It disappeared into the darkness. Sara kicked Dean again. This time she

put a little more force into it.

"Don't what? Hurt your son?" She taunted. "Bit late for that. He is dying by the way. And I did it."

John did not react. Sara grimaced. "What are you waiting for daddy Winchester?"

John smiled. The sight of it chilled Sara. Even though there was at least 2 metres between them. It was

confident. It was the smile of a man in complete control.

"I am trying to figure out what you are. My best guess would be demon or vengeful spirit."

"What?!"

John took a step forward. Involuntarily, Sara took a step back. John smiled at the act of

self-protection. As he stepped over Dean, he stooped for a second. Ruffling his hair, he whispered,

"IT will be okay soon son I promise."

Sara launched herself at John. He had half expected some sort of attack. He rolled with her weight

and forced her along. He threw her away, without much difficulty. Her head the other side of the metal

with a thud. She stayed were she was, dazed. John advanced slowly. When he had first seen Dean,

his fear nearly overcame him. He needed to get down out of there as quick as possible. John was not

stupid. He was not a killer as well. He had been presented with a situation. A supposed deranged

woman was killing his youngest. If it came down to it, John would have no hesitations about choosing

Dean over her. However, if she was innocent (she could have been possessed) then John would try to

save her. He would kill the real evil son of a bitch behind it all. His best clue had been when she had

uttered the words _daddy Winchester._ She knew more than most humans knew. He had not said a

word to hint at this. He was equally certain that Dean would not have.

While she was still dazed, John retrieved his journal from where he had stuffed it for safety.

John stopped at the correct page._Exorcism._ This was his first option for dealing with her. Usually it

was the most effective.

"Christo" he whispered before he began. Sara flinched. John smiled grimly. John reached into his

pocket. He retrieved a bottle of clear liquid. Unscrewing it, he moved in front of Sara. He punched

her. He flicked liberal amounts of holy water onto her body. He screamed. While she was distracted

by the pain, John began to chant the Latin required. When it was over, John felt nothing. He reached

over and stopped Sara from falling onto the ground. She was unconscious. He laid her gently onto the

ground.

He turned his attention to Dean.

"Dean." He was relieved. He knelt beside him. "Nice trick with the radio." John shook him gently.

"DEano."

John laid a hand on his chest.

"Dean?" His voice grew serious. He laid his hand on Deans neck, searching for a pulse.

"DEAN!"


	12. Chapter 12

hey! This is chapter 12. Hope you all like it!

Disclaimer- i own nothing!

Chapter 12

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

The noise was beginning to annoy Dean. He opened his eyes sluggishly. He blinked. He quickly

realised what the noise was. It was a machine monitoring, what he could only guess to be his own

heart rate. He was slightly relieved to hear the steady noise. At least he seemed to be alive. _But were _

_was he?_

Dean was lying down in a bed. He was oddly comfortable under the plain cotton sheets. From were

he lay he could see that he was in a long white walled room. He could see the bottoms of at least 10

beds lining the walls. Each bed had a similar machine beside it and a single chair. Some of which were

occupied by anxious looking people. Noting the solemn looks on the faces and the unmissable smell of

disinfectant in the air, Dean guessed. The last thing he remebered was passing out, then seeing

Sammy. His stomach knotted slightly in fear and guilt. In all the time he had been awake he had not

thought of his family once. What had happened to Sammy? What about his dad?

He turned his head, the only movement he could really manage at the moment, hoping he could call for

a nurse. _It is a damn hospital_ he reasoned _there is bound to be some help around here._ He

stopped when he noticed a man on his other side. The man was slumped on the chair, which was

pulled close to his bed. His head was resting on the edge on the bed in his arms. The man was clearly

asleep.

"Dad." Dean was surprised by the sound of his own voice. It sounded hoarse with disuse.

John Winchester stirred immediately. He lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. The looked bloodshot.

John was unshaven. He looked exhausted. However, when he noticed Dean was awake and alert he

paused.

"Dean?" He asked cautiously, unwilling to believe his son was finally awake, "Dean son?"

"Sammy...crash...demon..." Dean slurred slightly. He was anxious. He needed reassurance. He

needed his dad to be his father.

John reached out and squeezed Deans shoulder. His eyes watered. "Thank you..." He whispered. His

eyes galnced, out of habit, toward the crucifix he had wrapped around the pole on the top of Deans

hospital bed.

Above the crucifix, on the top of the bed, he had lovingly placed a picture of Mary. That way, he

reasoned, his wife could watch over her sons as well.

"You are safe now."

"...Crash." Dean was insistent.

"I took care of it." JOhns voice was firm. Dean recognised the tone. It meant that the coversation was

over.

"Sammy." Dean only spoke one word. It was a question that John recognised. Where was his brother.

He wanted to know where Sam was.

"He is okay." John was deliberately vague. He needed to placate Dean for the moment. He knew his

son. He was the first to admit Dean was uncontrolable when it came to his youngest welfare. Like a

caged bull at times, he liked to think. He was proud of it. His son was loyal. His son was brave and

his son was an excellent big brother. What more could a parent want?

"More..." Dean narrowed his eyes. He was sick of half answers. He could clearly tell that his father

was lying. He had learned Johns "tell" at the ripe old age of twelve. When John lied he immediately

scratched his ear and moved onto his chin. John was currently scratching his ear.

"No Dean." John was worried. Dean needed to calm down. He raised a hand, catching the eyes of the

nurses at the station in the middle of the room, and shouted, "Hey!MY son. My son is awake."

"Sam!" Dean fought against the drugs that were pumping in his veins. The drugs that were keeping his

pain at bay. His movements were slow. He swung one leg out from under the covers. John was quick

to react.

Taking his sons leg back onto the bed. "Calmdown Dean. You just woke up from a damn coma. You

cannot go anywhere." John touched the lower part of Deans stomach.

"Don't care...Sam."

"Well I do." John was frustrated by Dean. His son was acting exactly like he normally would. To him,

it was like nothing had changed. He did not know that he had almost died 3 times. His brain, over the

course of the past ten days had been without oxygen and his heart did not beat for a total of 10

minutes. Ten of the most aganosing minutes of his life. He did not want a repeat of that. He also did

not want Dean to be burdened with the knowledge. It gave him the shivers to think of how Dean

would react to this knowledge.

"SAM!"

"He is here Dean," replied John with a sigh.

Dean frowned. John closed his eyes and leaned to his right. Dean looked over.

"He is beside you Dean. He has never been far."

There, immobile on the bed lay Sam. His eyes were closed. A tube protruded from his mouth. His

face was pale as death. Sam did not look peaceful. He looked gaunt. If it was even possible, his hair

had grow longer. It hung limply about his face.

"Sammy..."


	13. Chapter 13

Hey, I do not own anything.

Please enjoy.

Chapter 13

John was greeted, as he walked through the doors of the intensive care wards, to the indignant shouts

of his eldest child. He smiled at the mere sound of it. After ten days of silence, he was glad to have at

least one son back to him. It did not even matter that he seemed to be pissed about something.

"What is going on?" He asked as he reached the bed. His head turned from Dean on the bed, to a

harassed looking sandy-haired doctor and back again.

"I am just trying to explain to your son that he is not able to get out of bed at the moment." The

doctors' tone had a note of pleading which John did not miss.

John shook his head at Dean's audacity. The guy was out of a ten day coma not half a day and he

was already looking out of bed.

"The second my back is turned, huh?" He asked Dean, good-naturedly.

Dean lifted the oxygen mask from over his mouth. "I want to sit by Sammy."

"But…but… he is just there. He is right beside you."

Dean shook his head stubbornly. "It is too far. I want to be beside him… he needs to know I am

here… not to be afraid... in case-"

"Nothing is going to happen to Sammy." John said in a voice he hoped sounded soothing.

"I am not seven _dad_" Deans voice was harsh, "He is not going to be fine just because you say so."

Dean closed his eyes.

John glanced at his youngest child. He smiled. The light from the window had fallen on his face. He

looked angelic. It comforted him slightly. If John ignored the gaunt face and the masses of tubes

attached to him Sammy looked, to him, as though he were sleeping. Because, if he were sleeping, then

he would wake up. If he were sleeping, he would not be laying there fighting for his life. John sighed.

"Ahem." The sandy haired man cleared his throat. John glanced at him. Dean glared up at the man. He

was still angry that he was not allowed to move and his dad was arguing against him.

"You and your brother have become quite famous around this ward. The brothers who have-" John

coughed. The doctor stopped, looked at him, caught his warning look and moved hastily on. Dean

noticed. His eyes narrowed.

"My point is, if you do not mind me saying, that your brother is not ready to die yet. He has come

through so much and is still there. He is fighting his corner. He is just taking longer than you as he has

had more to come through."

Dean nodded. John glanced, involuntarily towards Sammy. He looked back at Dean who was still

nodding.

"Thanks doctor." He hinted, smiling. The man left quickly, moving onto another patient. John and

Dean were alone.

"It is okay to cry," John commented, guessing Dean was close to tears. Dean stopped nodding. He

looked away.

"No." He replaced the oxygen mask. He took a few deep breaths before continuing.

"So what protection you got going on the ward?" Dean asked, trying to change the subject.

"Amulet under both your beds, crucifix and I trace salt rings around the ward every night."

"I bet the janitor loves you." Dean commented dryly.

"How do you feel Dean? Is there anything I can get you?" JOhn asked seriously.

Dean's smile disappeared from his face. "I do not deserve anything." He spat, half to himself, half

answering the question. John was silent for a second. Dean's face turned blank. He stared straight

ahead, refusing to meet John's eyes.

"Where did you go dad?" He whispered after a second.

"A hunt."

"What?"

John carefully chose his words. "It does not matter now." He tried to change the subject. He probed,

"Why do you think you do not deserve anything son?"

"Ask my brother." Dean replied sarcastically.

"Do you think that this is your fault? Do you think, somehow, that Sams injuries are because of you?"

John frowned. Dean shook his head. He groaned. "You do not get it do you?"

John was about to reply. His mouth opened. The words died on his lips. An alarm sounded off the

heart machine in the bed next to them. Johns head flew around. His heart caught in his throat.

"Sammy."

"SAMMY!" cried Dean desperately.

Sam Winchester did not hear the cries. His heart had stopped.


	14. Chapter 14

disclaimer- i own nothing.

Hey, sorry about all the medical stuff. It is totally made up. My internet is not working I can't

change it or look it up. I am going on what I've seen in movies and tv.

Chapter 14

"He's crashing!"

The sleepy silence of ward was broken. Two nurses and two Doctors came running from their

respective places in the room. One ran to get a crash cart. The various wives, siblings and

children of the patients looked up from their various bedsides.

Dean watched, wide eyed. _Sammy!_ He struggled to get up. The painkiller was wearing off. He

had more control of his limbs. With this control, the pain of his injuries caught up with him. It was

excrutiating. It was white hot agony. Dean was forced to lie still. To fight for control of his own

body. The sound of the alarm rung in his ears. "Sammy." He grunted.

Dean closed his eyes. He could not watch. He lay, terrified, despite the pain. Dean heard every

sound, cruelly magnified in his ears.

"Starting CPR!" He heard someone shout. The voice was male. He sounded decisive and in

control. Dean was envious of his control. It was his brother dying. It was his little brother. Not the

owner of that voice. He should be helping Sammy. It was his job. It was his responsibility.

"Clear!" Dean heard the thud of a body flopping back onto the bed. It was sickening to Dean. He

had seen enough hospital drama crap on television to know what was going on. Despite this, he

opened his eyes.

John was at the end of Deans bed. He assumed that he had been pushed from Sammys side.

John gripped the metal on the edge of the bed. His knuckles were white. He teeth were gritted.

He was panting. His eyes were glued to the action on the bed. He did not notice Deans desperate

glance. His thoughts were concerned with his youngest.

Deans eyes widened at the sight of his brother. Sam did not look like Deans little brother. He

looked like a ghost. There was no life in his face. There was nothing that made Sam, Deans little

brother. It was as if everything that made Sammy Sammy was gone. The thought terrified Dean.

Dean got a good look at, what he assumed was, the owner of the voice. Dean assessed him. He

looks strong. He looks like he knows what he is doing. _You better save my brother._ He urged the

mans back. The man continued to pound Sams chest, trying to force oxygen into his lungs.

_Please Save him._

_FLASHBACK._

_Dean was alone in the Impala. He watched the apartment he assumed belonged to Sam. The _

_lights were out. They had been out for a good hour or so, Dean judged. He drummed his fingers _

_on the steering wheel. He frowned. The Impala was silent. He had not bothered to turn on the _

_radio. _

_"Suck it up." He told his reflection in the mirror._

_Since he had rolled into town earlier that day and after he had eventually found the apartment, _

_Dean had been watching his brother all night. At first, he was slightly amused that Sam had not _

_noticed him. He did not even look in his direction once. The kid was a little rusty, he judged. After _

_two years, it had been heartening to see his brother. Sam seemed to enjoy playing Joe- _

_Normal. Dean did not realize how much he missed his brother. All his self-assurances that he _

_could_ _survive on his own disappeared. He was finally within 100 miles of his brother again. It felt _

_good. He was also a little dismayed. Sammy did not seem to hold the same issues. He seemed _

_happy living without his brother. He had made a few friends. Dean had watched as he had _

_stopped to talk to several different people. He had watched, slightly impressed, as Sam returned _

_to the apartment with a chick that was way out of his league. His brother seemed to be have a _

_good life here. He had grown. He seemed less like the child he had grown up with. Sam was an _

_adult, he reminded himself. He did not need Dean to protect him from _

_this. He had proved that he did not need Dean when he walked out on their family two years _

_previously. Dean was still hurt by Sams choice. Sam had chosen safety and normality over him. _

_"Do you really want to drag him back into this crap? He is happy." He asked his reflection._

_"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness." He told himself again. Dean laughed and shook _

_his head._

_Taking the keys out of the ignition, he sighed. "It is his dad too." Dean reasoned. He got out of the _

_car. "What is the worst that could happen?" He reasoned._

_XXxxxXxXxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"Again!"

_Please._ Dean begged. _Do not die. Not yet._

The doctor shook his head. "Again," he ordered.

_Not now. Please God. I will do anything,_

The doctor shook his head. "Come on Kid." He muttered to himself.

Dean began to cry. _No. No.No._

"Call it." The doctor ordered sadly.

"NO!"

"Sammy?!" John fell to his knees. He began to shake his head.

"No...Noo.noo.nooo."

The relatives already turned their heads away respectfully. The scene before them was their own

worst nightmare.

"Time of de-"

Unbelievably Sam Winchesters heart machine began to bleep, cutting off the final words of the

doctor. Dean looked at his brother, proudly. The young man was not ready to die tonight.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer- i own nothing.

Chapter 15

"How's Sam?", asked Dean forgoing to traditional hey. John did not say anthing. His eyes wandered to the curtain. The doctors had drawn it around Sams bed, despite Deans

protestations, about ten minutes ago. John had disappeared behind the curtain a few minutes ago on the invitation of the nurse. On being asked to enter, he had looked pale. Now

when he was leaving Sams side, Dean realised that he looked quite sick. The look of devestation on Johns face made Dean want to gag. John seemed to be having difficulty

focusing. His hand was at his mouth. His eyes blinking rapidly.

"They are doing tests." JOhn whispered disbelievingly. Even though he was answering Deans question he was not looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the curtain.

"What do you mean?" Deans eyes were fixed on John. He tried to read Johns expression, hoping to gain answers in his face. _It's bad,he realised with a sinking heart._

"Something about internal damage...the brain...lack of oxygen."

The words hit Dean with a thump. He could see the truth in them. It was like bio one o one was coming back to bite him back on the ass.

"What? How serious do they think he is?" Dean demanded. John winced with the questioning. He was exhausted mentally. He did not think he could cope with much more. He

reminded himself to be patient. Dean was ill. He watched as his oldest inhaled deeply, relying on the mask. John ignored the nurse beside Deans bedside. She was studying the

machine that Dean was hooked into. She took a few notes on her clipboard and left, sparring Dean a sympathetic glance.

"Sam had some serious head injuries, among other things when he first came here. Now they are worried the lack of oxygen has done more damage to my boy. They think, that

even if he wakes up that he wont be the same."

"If he recovers, he may not necessarily be Sam." Deans voice was small. John nodded

"How would you feel about that?" asked John, sitting on the edge of Deans bed. It dipped slightly with his weight.

"Fine." He answered without hesitation. "He would still be my brother. It is still my job to protect him no matter what."

John smiled, warmed by Deans sincerity. "Good Boy."

"Why did this happen?" asked Dean, honestly confused. "Why did Sams heart just stop? He does not smoke. The guy hardly drinks. He is physically fit. Why?" Dean glanced over

at the curtain. He missed the look of sadness pass over Johns face. His smile disappeared.

"The most likely cause, or so they think, is an internal bleed or a clot, in which the blood which carries his oxygen is prevented from reaching his organs."

Dean nodded. It was a problem. Finally, he thought, things were begininng to make sense. All they had to do was to fix the mistake and Sam would be okay.

"So, when are they fixing this thing?"

John plucked the thin blanked sadly. "That is the thing, they are not."

Dean blanched. "What?! What kind of hospital is this-" Dean shouted.

"Dean!" John reprimanded.

"But!...But!... If that is not fixed, his heart will stop beating again. And if his as weak as you say he is, then he will probably die." Dean was confused and emotionally exhausted.

Ever since he had woken in this hospital bed, his emotions had taken a ride. He did not know what to think or feel anymore. The whole situation was beginning to feel like a bad

dream where he was annoyingly useless.

"He is too weak Dean!" John cried, exasperated, "If he goes into surgery now there is an excellent chance he could die on the table."


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer- i own nothing

hey. I hope you all like this chapter. It may be a little confusing but I will explain it all in the next chapter!

Chapter 16

Dean awoke with a start. He was momentarily confused, he was still half asleep.

"Da-"

John Winchester looked up. "It is okay, you were sleeping." He was backed in his chair. He was slumped slightly, leaning heavily on it for support.

Dean was incredulous. _How in the hell had he fallen asleep? His brother was on the brink of life, barely holding on and I decide I am all tuckered out? _

"Cut yourself some slack," John said, correctly guessing Deans mood from his facial expression, "You are just out of a coma. Your body is still recovering. It is no shame."

Dean chose not to answer. He shook his head. He turned his head, looked over and searched for Sam. His bed was empty. Pure terror coursed through him. "WHAT?" He

demanded of John. "Where is Sammy?"

John was out of the chair in a second. He moved beside Dean. "Calm down." He squeezed Deans shoulder. Dean winced at the gesture. His face was pure white. "Sammy went

down to surgery four hours ago."

Deans mouth moved noiselessly. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You need your rest." John tried to sound fatherly. Dean wiggled his shoulder from under JOhns palm. "Now you want to be my dad?"

John withdrew his hand. He frowned. "Dean," John warned.

"what?" He asked defiantly.

"Do not talk to me like that."

"I will talk to you anyway I want to. I am a grown man." Dean shouted. "You have no right to fricking do that. If he dies..if he dies...then." Deans shout turned into a whisper. John

frowned. He reached out a hand to Dean. Dean slid away from him. JOhn sighed. He crouched. His head was level with Deans.

"Dean." He said to his son. Dean did not turn around.

"Dean please." Dean did not turn.

"You do not have to look. Just listen then. I know that you are scared. I know that you feel helpless. It sucks just having to wait but believe me, this is the worst of it. Sam will live.

Don't worry about goodbyes son. You will have a lifetime for that stuff."

Dean turned around. He eyes were bright. He raised an eyebrow. He shot John a look that clearly said, _where the hell did you get that from?_

John shrugged uncomfortably. "I have had a lot of time on my hands."

"So you have been watching Oprah?!"

John smirked. "Something like that."

Dean laughed.

"Sir?"

Dean stopped laughing. The doctor stood over John, still in his scrubs. John stood up hastily. John and dean searched the mans expression. His face was carefully neutral.

"Sam?"

The doctor nodded. "Maybe we should talk somewhere more private." He motioned at Dean. Dean scowled. "Do not even think about it."

The doctor looked at Dean, in surprise, and back at John, who nodded.

"Fine." The doctor rubbed his hands. "As you know, we were operating on your son. The injuries were far more extensive than we first thought. We tried our best. Sir, I am sorry.

His injuries were far too extensive."

"Were?" interrupted Dean. "Past tense?"

John looked at Dean and frowned. "What are you trying to tell me...tell us?"

"Your son died about ten minutes ago."


	17. Chapter 17

Hey. First of all I haveto admit that I am mean. I just had to do the last chapter, I could not resist it lol.

This is not a death fic!!

Disclaimer- i own nothing

Chapter 17

"Dean!"

"Dean!"

Dean awoke with a start. His eyes darted wildly around the room. Firstly, he noted John. The mans hand was on his shoulder. His face was concerned. Dean ignored him. He

looked over and was rewarded with a view of his younger brother, still hooked to the machines but very much alive. The machines bleeped. Sams chest rose rthymatically. Dean

watched it, feeling his own terror subside. After a second, when his breathing had calmed down, he asked John "I was asleep, wasn't I?"

"I think it was a night terror." John nodded. "You were mumbling."

Dean sat up. He adjusted the pillows so he was leaning on his butt, resting his back on a raised pillow. He noticed the movement no longer hurt him.

"Did the nurses drug me up?" He guessed.

"While you were sleeping," Johns eyes flickered from Dean to Sam and back to Dean again, "Figured it was going to be the only way that you would let them take care of you."

"Damn straight." Dean nodded. John ignored the sarcasm, "You are fine, relatively speaking."

A thought struck Dean. His hand strayed unconsciously towards his side. "What is the matter with me?"

John blinked. He was unsure of what to say. He struggled to find the appropriate words.

"What do you want me to say?" John asked after a second. He waved off Dean who opened his mouth to reply. "It does not matter now. It is in the past. You are fine now. We

need to concentrate on the present-on Sammy."

Dean nodded. "what about Sammy. What about the surgery?"

John sighed. He ran his hands through his hair. "He is still too weak for it."

"How long has it been?" Dean asked, exasperated. He glanced quickly at Sam. A thought occured to him. He frowned and turned to John.

"Dad, what exactly happened to Sam? You know, when the plane crashed, how badly hurt was he?"

"The kid was pinned when I found him," JOhn started after a second. He reached out and arm and gripped the cool metal of Deans bed. He stared at the cotton bedspread. His

gaze was far away. It was like he was looking but not really seeing the bed. He was in a different place. Dean nodded. He gritted his teeth, suppressing any emotion.

"They said he was going to die." John shook his head. "They actually advised me to start making preparations. I mean, what the hell do you say to that. But he survived. He has

been holding on. He has been fighting so damn hard. It kills me that I can not help him. It kills me that all I can do is sit here and watch."

Deans heart was pounding. The sound thundered in his ears. _Oh my God. Oh my God._ He felt like he was about to throw up. Dean imagined if he had woke up if Sam was dead.

His stomach dropped at the thought of it. He could relate to what his dad was saying. He felt completely helpless. And it sucked. It sucked big time.

"It sucks I know. " John frowned. "But you gotta deal with it. We both gotta deal with it," Dean was frustrated, "He has to fight for his life on his own. And we have to be there for

him. Help him where we can."

"That advice sucks Dean," John laughed, "Help him where we can? Are you actually proposing we sit and idly watch him die?"

Dean was silent for a few minutes. His leaned his head back on his pillow. He watched his brother.

"I think," said Dean, without taking his eyes of Sam, "Sam should get the surgery now."

"You are not a doctor Dean. They are telling us to wait."

Dean snorted. "Wait for him to die? You said it dad. If he waits for the surgery, the worse his chances will get."

"He could die on the table. He could die Son." John whispered fearfully.

Deans eyes watered. "I can not belive that I am even saying this. We have to take this chance. At least this way, if it...it...does happen, then he went out fighting. He did not lie on a

bed waiting for death."

"DEan, we can't." John shook his head. He ran his fingers through his hair again.

"Realistically, dad, we have to. He has got bad odds either way. At least with the surgery, he has a little chance."

John nodded, seeing the logic in Deans arguement.

"But, if he dies..." John left the question unfinished. He did not have a clue what to do. He was aware that he was relying on his son for answers that he should be coming up with

himself, he could not find the energy to care.

"We have to have faith in Sam." Dean gestured at Sm. He avoided looking at Sam. "You have to believe that the kid will live. You have to believe that Sammy is not ready to die."

Dean closed his eyes. He was finished talking. He had presented his argument to John. It was now his dads job to be the decision maker. Dean happily reliquinshed the role.

_Sammy,_ he whispered in his head,_ you got on a plane that was going to crash to save over a hundred people. Save yourself Sam. Fight Sam. Save yourself, save me._

Dean could feel the tears welling in his closed eyes. _Please let me be right. Please let it be okay._


	18. Chapter 18

Okay, somebody has noticed that i have been kind of vague with Deans injuries. There is a

reason for that. Dean angst coming up. :)

Disclaimer- i own nothing.

Chapter 19

"Dean."

"Yeah." Dean did not look up. He continued to stare, mournfully at his hands.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Dean looked up, incredulous. He looked at the empty bed beside

his and back to his dad again. John caught the meaning behind his gaze. _How can you think of _

_eating at a time like this._

"I...I..."John searched for an explanation."The silence was beginning to tick me off. It is too oppressive." HIs hands came to rest on Deans bed covers.

"I am alright." Dean whispered softly. His gaze fell on the empty bed and he frowned. He

wondered how Sam was.

"How do you think he is holding up?" He asked John.

John looked away. He nodded. "He has been fighting his corner for nearly two hours now."

Dean looked up at the large round clock on the wall. _It is only two hours._ He thought amazed. It

was the longest two hours in his life. Since he and his father had entrusted Sam to the doctors

Dean had been living in a silent hell. He kept reliving his dream in his head. Reliving his brothers

death in his head. And, no matter what he did to calm himself, his heart began to pound every

time he heard footsteps. It had not been all bad though. Despite his best efforts, Dean had been

dozing, falling in and out of consciousness. He was not unduly worried by this. He figured it was

due to the drugs that were pumping around his system.

"That is my boy." Dean smiled sleepily. He could feel his eyelids droop. He yawned. He leaned

around and fixed his pillows, adjusting them lower. John watched silently, still straight backed in

the chair.

" M'so tired." Dean muttered.

John nodded. "it is okay. It is just the meds son. Do not fight it."

"I guess being a shisque-kebab does not agree with me." Dean smiled wryly at the ceiling. "Wake

me up when Sammy comes back." His eyes dropped against his will.

"Do not worry. I will." JOhn settled back in the chair. HIs eyes were fixed on his son. Deans

breathing became slower and deeper. It was clear he was fast asleep again. John settled down to

watch over him again.

"Sweet dreams Dean." He frowned. The worry he had been holding inside from Dean shone

through on his features. He bit his lip.

He cupped his hands. "Please." He whispered. He closed his eyes. "Please," he whispered again,

praying that someone was listening.

XxxXxxXxXXXXxXxXXxxXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Dean was small again. He was standing in a familiar corridor. He could feel the heat again. It _

_burned his face.He could hear the roar of the flames. All of a sudden his dad was there. _

_Running, __to him._

_"Dean, take your brother outside as fast as you can." John shoved the baby Sam into his _

_arms. _

_Dean was confused. "Now Dean, Go!" Dean did not need to be told twice. Even at his age, _

_he __could hear the urgency in his fathers voice. Feeling the weight of his brothers life in his _

_hands, he __began to run..._

Dean awoke for a second. Slightly disorientated, he quickly realized he was back in the hospital

The bed next to him was still empty. He sighed.

"Dad?"

John was slumped in the seat, his hand resting on his arm. At the sound of Deans voice, he

straightened. He was alert. Very much the soldier.

"Yeah Dean?" Johns voice was tender.

Dean was already falling asleep. His eyes were closed. "Sam?"

"Not yet Dean." Johns voice was far off. "Not yet."

XxXXxXxxxXxXxxXxXxXxXxxXxXxXxXxxXxxxXxXxXxXxXxXXxXxXxxXxXxxXxXxXxXxXxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Dean could feel the heat of the fire. It was overpowering. He could hear the familiar roar of _

_flames. Dean could hear something else, mixed in with the roar of the flames. His brother._

_"Sam?" Dean yelled. He crossed the living room of the apartment in five strides. Sam was _

_curled __on the bed, yelling in disbelief. Dean looked to the ceiling. His girl was there, just like _

_their mom. _

_Dean barely registered the thought. He ducked down and made towards Sam. The boy was _

_still __yelling. He did not even see Dean. He reached down and pulled Sam from the bed. His _

_brother __struggled. Dean was stronger. He pulled Sam out of the fire again._

When Dean awoke for the second time, it was evening. The lamps beside the patients beds were

lit. They cast glows on each of the patient. Dean felt sick. His throat was raw.

"Dad," He looked down to the chair intending to ask him to get the nurses to dope him up again.

John was not there. He looked over. John was bending over Sams bed.

"Dad." he said a little louder. John turned. He smiled.

"Hey Dean. You are awake." Dean could hear the relief in his voice. Dean frowned. John moved and

he could see the next bed.

"How long was I asleep for?" he asked, amazed.

Sam Winchester lay on the next bed, peacefully. He was awake. Seeing Deans gaze, he smiled

weakly.


	19. Chapter 19

disclaimer- i own nothing

hey, I know a lot of people may have been confused by the last chapter, hopefully this one will sort

it out.

chapter 19

Dean struggled against the bile rising in his throat. He looked from Sam, who was watching him

weakly, to John who eyed him warily. "Hey," he said weakly. He leaned over the edge of the bed

and threw up.

"Nurse!" Dean heard John call. He retched until dry heaves racked his body. He felt a comforting

hand on his back. He could hear his father whisper comforting words to him.

"I do not feel so good."He muttered when he could finally speak again. He wiped his mouth and

flopped back onto the pillows.

"Okay Dea-" Sam asked. His voice was muffled by the oxygen mask covering his face.

Dean smiled, despite the pain. "It is good to hear your voice Sammy. I am alright, do not worry

about me."

"Dean?"

Dean ignored the voice. "What about you Sammy? He pressed, anxious to keep Sam talking. How

are you feeling?"

"Crap-" Sam closed his eyes. He looked exhausted. His face was pale, but his cheeks had a little

more colour in them.

Dean smiled again, realising how much he had missed the complaining voice of his little brother. " I

am glad you are feeling anything

"Dean." It was his dad this time. Dean recognised the tone. He had heard it often enough. It was the

_obey now or you will regret it later_ tone. He tore his gaze away from his brother.

His dad stood at the foot of his bed. With him, judging by the white coat, was his doctor. Both men

wore looks of equal concern. _Shit_ he thought.

"Sorry about that," he muttered at the nurse kneeling beside his bed. She was a young petite

brunette.She was cleaning up his vomit but stopped at Deans apology. She smiled, as if to say _do _

_not worry about it, _and continued.

"How do you feel, sir?"

"Like the plane I was just in crashed," he answered sarcastically.

"Dean, quit being stupid." John shot the doctor a look of apology.

"I will when he stops asking stupid questions." He answered defiantly. He heard a small snort beside

him. He shot Sam a look of triumph.

"I feel sick, my head is pounding, my throat is raw," Dean listed after a second, "I have got your

basic hangover minus the fun of getting drunk."

"And the tiredness," the doctor added, noting something on a clipboard.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"On and off for the past three days."

The words amazed him. _That is not possible._ "That is not possible. No one can sleep that long.I

would have remebered."

"-Called me geekboy." Sam said and Dean frowned. He looked from Sam, to JOhn, to the doctor

and to the duvet covers.

"I do not remember that." He whispered defeatedly after a few seconds. "But it does sound like

me."

"The tiredness is a normal side effect of the drugs." The doctor's voice was calm.

"Three days?" Dean smiled. "I am not that smart but I know you were not giving me that much

drugs."

Dean saw the look that passed between his father and the doctor. He shot Sam an accusatory look.

Sam shrugged as if to say _i dunno what is happening, do not get pissed at me._

"what is going on? He demanded.

John looked away. The doctor chose his words carefully. "We are a little concerned about some of

your symptons."

"But I was in a plane crash and had a pole sticking out of my side."He did not mention the demon

chick."Some of your symptoms seem to indicate other things," he said simply, "We need to run

some tests."

"What kind of tests?" Dean demanded, slightly scared. "We have already spoken with this with your

father."Both brothers shot John an accusatory look. He blanched slightly.

"What the hell do you need to test for?!"

"There is no point worrying yourself about possibilties."

"What the hell is wrong with me?!" Dean demanded, his voice rising


	20. Chapter 20

HOPE YOU ALL LIKE THIS CHAPTER. THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS, AS ALWAYS. MWAH

DISCLAIMER I OWN NOTHING.

CHAPTER 20

"Where's dad?" asked Dean, fighting back the nausea to smile weakly at Sam as he was wheeled past. Sam lay in the bed and watched him pass. He was silent for a

moment, letting the doctors rehook the machines around his bed. For once, the chair between the bed was empty.

"Convinced him to go back to a motel to sleep." The voice was muffled under the oxygen mask. Half of Sams face was covered but Dean could see him watching him.

"How did you manage to do that?" Dean asked conversationally. He was not surprised. The last time he had seen his father, the man had looked worn out.

"Promising not to die for a few hours."

Dean scowled. The image of his lifeless brother lying there floated before his eyes. It was hard to believe that it was such a short time ago that Sams life had been on the l

ine. He failed to see the humor in Sams joke.

"Do not try to be funny. It does not suit you." Sam nodded slightly. Tension creeped into the covnersation. There was an uneasy silence. Deans eyes flitted around the

ward. It was becoming uncomfortably familiar to him. He glanced back over at Sams bed. He could still see him, laying in a coma. He could still see the tubes down his throat and the pale face. Dean shivered. "Sam.." Dean began awkwardly, ".. I am...really glad..you are..alive."

"You too. Thanks." Sam smiled. "That was hard for you wasn't it?" Noting Deans awkwardness. Dean looked over at Sam, marvelling at the fact he had his brother back.

"No." he answered sincerly, "You have no idea how easy that was."

Sam smiled again. Dean grinned.

"Did we get it?" Sam asked after a moment. Deans smile faded. This was the million dollar question, so to speak. He had been avoiding thinking of their failure. He had

been supressing all his feelings of guilt. It did eat at him quietly though. He wondered how many people they had failed to save. How many lives had been lost because of it.

He had hoped to shield Sam from it, for at least a little while. He knew his little brother, the guy could not handle his emotions as well as him. So, after a few seconds of

quiet deliberation he quietly answered,

"No." He refused to lie to his brother, especially when he asked him that directly. Dean could see the words hit Sam. What little color in his face drained from it. His eyes

narrowed. He frowned and he closed his eyes.He clenched his fists. Dean could see him take a couple of deep breaths.

"Talk to me Sammy." Dean fought through another wave of sickness, only concerned with his brother at the minute, "Talk to me."

His eyes opened. They were bright. "All those people..."

"We did all we could. Do not dare feel guilty. Feel sad, " he was forceful, trying to emphasis his point, "sure, be angry that the evil so of a bitch won. Do not dare be guilty.

You tried, I tried, we got on a plane that we knew was going to crash! We tried Sam. We did all we could. But it is a fact of life. Sometimes things do not go the way you

want it to. "

Dean caught himself and laughed nervoursly. Sam did not say anything. He just watched Dean silently as he attempted to run his fingers through his hair. He could not

though,as his wrist was restrained to the side of the bed. Sam frowned and wondered how he had not seen it before.

"Dean?" he nodded at the restraint. Dean shook his head. "It is nothing."

"Dean?!" Sam raised his eyebrows, disbelivingly. "You are pratically hand cuffed to the bed. What the hell did you do?"

Dean looked embarrased. "I tried to punch the doctor."

Sam snorted, quickly turning it into a noise of disbelief.

"He was bugging me." Dean defended himself lamely.

"The guy was involved in saving our lives." Sam reprimanded. Dean winced slightly at the tone.

"It does not give him the right to treat me like a child," Dean ranted, "I mean I had been poked and prodded for an hour. I was at that CT thing for twenty minutes at least,

all together that was over an hour and a half.The guy is meant to be my doctor. He would not give me a damn straight answer. If I hear another, It may be or It could

possibly be, I will swing for someone. If I am sick. I have a right to know what the hell it is. I am not a kid."

"Do you think you are sick?" It was Deans turn to snort. "Ask a stupid question. We are in an intensive care ward. Of course I am sick."

"Do you think it is something more?" Sam elaborated, clearly annoyed.

"Honestly, no." Dean frowned. "I know myself. I would know if I was really sick." Sam nodded, accepting his story. His face was troubled.

"You look like crap though."

"Ha! Thanks princess, you are looking great yourself."

"Dean." Sam grumbled.

"What?" He smiled.

"You are a jerk."

"Bitch."

Both brothers smiled.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer- i own nothing.

Chapter 21.

Sm yawned. Dean could see his mouth widen under the mask. It was a simple human reaction but it caused him to wonder, and ask Sam a few seconds later,

"What was it like...in the coma," he asked.

Sam shook his head slowly and glanced at Dean. Dean recognised the look. It was like he was slightly nuts. Dean accepted it with a nod.

"Probably felt the same as yours," he answered. Dean frowned, slightly confused. "I talked to dad while you were away. Why do you want to know anyway?"

Dean shrugged, as if to say _i dunno. _

"It was not weird, if you really want to know. It felt like I was asleep and dreaming. And no, before you ask, I am not telling you what I dreamt about."

Dean laughed. "As long as it was not a long running freaky nightmare of yours." Sam frowned. He looked away. Dean bit his lip, worried he had said the wrong thing. Sam

lifted off the oxygen mask. His hands were trembling slightly. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, nah Sammy, put it back on. You need it." Sam shook his head. "I do not want you to misunderstand anything. I need you to hear this, loud and clear."

"Vaguely ominous, but okay." Dean lifted his own oxygen mask to his face. He felt the much needed rush of air down his sore throat. He gulped it in.

"Over the past couple of weeks I have not really been myself," Sam began slowly. Dean nodded found himself thinking of the moodiness. He thought of the nightmares and the long silences.

"You are greiving."

"It was guilt." Sam said quietly

" It is normal to feel guilty after someone close to you dies."

"Do not patronise me Dean." Sam said quietly, "I feel guilty because I could have prevented her death. I could have saved her, She should not have died." Sams voice was filled with quiet anguish.

"Again, it is normal. but we can't-"

"I saw her damn death before it happened. I saw everything. Days before it happened, right down to the last detail."

Dean was quiet for a second, trying to comphrened what his brother had just told him. "Do you mean you had a...vision?"

"You could call it that, yeah," Sam could not look at Dean. Instead, he stared at the white cotton bed sheets.

"Have you...i dunno.. had any before?" Sam shook his head. Dean tried to find some comforting words, to show his brother that he was not freaked out. He could not find any. Instead he asked,

"Why are you telling me now?"

"Nearly dying puts things into perspective."

Dean nodded, agreeing with the logic. He did not say anything for a few minutes. Neither brother looked at the other.

"Sorry." He apologised, unable to find anything else comforting to say. Sam nodded. "We will get through it though. Thanks for telling me."

xxxxxXxXxXXxXx

"How is the bruise doc?" Dean asked cockily, looking at the mans chin. The doctor shifted from one foot to the other. It was clear he was uncomfortable. Dean was certain he seen his gaze flick to the restraint on his arm.

"I have your test results." Dean recognised the look on the doctors face. He had seen enough ER reruns, to recognise the bad news look. Something was happening to him

and, despite super docs assurances, it was not nothing. Dean glanced over to Sam who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. His face was turned away from them and he had

been quiet for over half an hour. Dean could only hope he was sleeping.

"On a scale of one to ten, how screwed am I?" The doctor did not answer immediately. "Your condition is extrememly serious, there is no doubt about that..."

Dean listened silently, nodding every few seconds. He heard the doctors words, absorbing his news quietly. The words had a sobering effect on him. Also, he could also

hear Sam, talking to him. He was louder than the doctor. Sam trusting him with his secret and trustng him to take care of it, like any little brother would. He thought of his

dad, from whom he had still not discovered his reasons for disappearing. He really did have time for treatment. He had to be strong. His family needed him.

"do not tell them." Dean said.

"But they will realise once you begin your treatment course. Why don't you just tell them now?"

"I don't want any treatment," Dean was adament.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer- i own nothing

I hope you all like this chapter.

Chapter 22

When John Winchester walked back into the intensive care ward, Dean noticed two things about him immediately. He had clearly not slept. From his bed, on the other side of the

room, the man still looked exhausted.

Also, he was not alone. Another man, equally serious, walked beside him with his eyes on Dean.

"Pastor Jim!" Dean welcomed as the man took a seat. John stood behind him and leaned on the bed frame. "Hey."

"Hello Dean," the older man smiled warmly. "how are you?"

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the doctor at the nurses bay. He was watching them and John in particular. John noticed the glance and looked at Dean. He frowned.

"What is the matter, did you get your test results?"

Dean shot him a look. He did not answer immediately. Pastor Jim looked between the two, polititly curious.

"Nothing is wrong. It is just a bad reaction with the drugs they were pumping into me, combined with some infection. He said antibiotics would fix it up." Dean listed motonously, "I

am surprised that you do not already know."

"I am not going to apologise for trying to look out for my kids." John said stubbornly. His eyes flickered to Sam. He lay asleep on the next bed, peacefully unaware of the argument

brewing. Dean noted the concern in John's face when he looked at Sam.

"He is okay, they decided to give him a sedative. He will be out for a while." John and JIm both nodded. Jim turned to Sam to give the Winchester men a private moment. Dean

saw him lay a hand onto Sams forehead.

"I am not a kid dad! Do not treat me like one!" Anger crept into Deans voice.

John leaned closer. Dean could see he was frustrated. He did not care. "You are my kid."

Dean laughed. He shook his head disbelieving. "Now you want to play the protective parent? Why were you not there in Paulo Alto? What about the time I almost bit it when we

were hunting the wendigo?Huh?"

Deans voice was quieter. "Why did you leave dad? Why did you go?"

"That is a chat for another time."

Dean voice rose, "No, I want to talk about it now!"

"Well, I am not going to. I will tell you, but I can't afford for you to get stressed. But know this, I only left because I knew you both were well trained. I made sure you could fight

anything that came your way. Like any parent, even though our particular case is a little more complicated than others, I made sure that you were ready before I left."

Dean looked away. "Save the speech. You left me. You are my dad and you choose something else above us. Plain and simple." His voice betrayed the hurt he was trying to

conceal.

"Dean," he felt an arm squeeze his wrist. He looked over and smile weakly at pastor Jim. His dad was walking away from the bed.

"Da-" Jim shook his head. "Don't Dean. Leave him." Dean was surprised by the tone in the older mans voice. It was intense sadness.

"Why?"

"Because your dad made the most difficult choice anyone can ever be faced with. And no, I am not going to do his dirty work for him. I may not agree with his choice but Dean,

you are his kid, you need to support him. He never chose anything above you or your brother. He loves you both so much. It is so easy, if you were not so stubborn, to see how

terrified he is."

Dean laughed disbelieving, "My dad is never terrfied of anything. He is like a machine. "

Pastor Jim shook his head. "Your dad is anything but a robot. These past two days-"

"You have been here two days?"

Jim nodded. "I am not surprised you do not remember it."

Dean mentally winced, thinking of the excessive sleeping. He found his mind wandering back to the conversation with the doctor. He cut those thoughts off, immediately.

"Why did you come so far?"

Jim glanced over to the window. John was leaning his head against it, looking out onto the world below. "Sam". He answered quietly.

Dean nodded slowly. He looked, wide-eyed at Sam.

"But.. the surgery."

"He never came out of his coma Dean. After another day he was worse than ever. The doctors told John to start making preparations. He called me."

Dean was suddenly glad that he had been asleep/ could not remember the last three days. _He is still here. He pulled through._ Dean reminded himself.

"I came. I gave Sammy the last rites."

Dean was filled with a new respect for his father. John had come through that. Dean was not sure that he could say the same for himself, if the situations were reversed.

"Then, then what happened?" Dean was grateful he was finally getting some answers.

"He just, he just woke up." Jim shook his head again. "It was a miracle. Sam was not ready to leave yet."

He sighed, "At least all the drama is over now," he said brightly, "You boys are on the mend. Everything is going to be fine."

"Yeah." Dean nodded. His heart sunk. He wondered what the hell he was going to do for not the first time that day.


	23. Chapter 23

disclaimer- i get that a lot of people do not like that I am not telling you what is wrong with Dean. I am going to do it soon, i promise.

Just to clarify: this is not a death fic!!

Usual Disclaimer: i own nothing.

chapter 23

"Sam does not know this," Dean asked, trying to keep his mind off his own thoughts. Pastor Jim nodded. He looked troubled for a second. He bit his lip and brought his hand up

from his lap to rest on Deans bedside.

"I think, and your daddy does too, that it would be best for the common good if your brother does not know how close he came to dying." Pastor Jim shot Sam a guilty glance, as if

Sam could overhear him. Sam lay sleeping, overcome with the affects of the sedative.

"That 'common good' is really beginning to annoy me." Dean said lightly. There was a hint of sadness in his voice. Jim noticed and squeezed Dean's hand gently.

"Still, I agree with your logic. No one should be burdened with something like that, not him and especially not now."

Dean looked over to Sam. He searched his face and found it void of the sadness that had been all too evident for the last few weeks. Sleeping on the bed, Sam just looked

peaceful. Dean was glad.

"Jessica? His girlfriend?" Dean nodded as an answer. "How is he-"

"Jim," interrupted John suddenly. Dean felt his heart flutter slightly. John had scared him as he had not heard him coming back. He looked grim. But he looked determined. "Could I

have a minute with my son?"

"Of course." Pastor Jim got up immediately. He gave Dean a small smile before moving off. John sat into the seat Jim had just vacated. He did not say anything for a second. He

contented himself with looking at his son. Dean could feel himself squirming under his gaze. He felt like a kid who'd just been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. As the seconds

passed Dean felt himself willing the man to talk and break the silence.

"A wendigo, huh?" John asked casually. Dean got the feeling that his father was keeping something back. He had stormed off and now he was back, wanting a chat. Either that, or

his dad was possessed. He considered saying Christo for a second and ruled it out. It would probably piss his dad off even more. So, he decided on a more subtle move, he would

play along and see were it took him.

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"What else did you boys hunt?"

"A woman in white and the ghost of a little kid who liked to drown people." Dean answered simply. He refused to elaborate, wanting his father to get to the point. "Why?"

"Just wondered," JOhn shrugged. Dean nodded, suspicious. He watched John for a second. The man seemed relaxed and upbeat. "I was just making conversation."

"Dad, you do not make ocnversation. What is up?" Dean asked, seriously.

JOhn laughed softly. He lowered his head and looked back at Dean. "I'm pissed off Dean and I am trying to calm down before I do or say something I regret."

"Why are you upset?" Dean wondered if he would regret that question later.

"You lied to me Dean 'it is just a bad reaction with the drugs they were pumping into me, combined with some infection. He said antibiotics would fix it up'. I am not stupid enough

to swallow that." John uttered. He watched Dean for a reaction. Dean stared blankly, not expecting the blow to come in this form. He was aware that his dad was watching him. He

was also aware that he needed to be extremely careful in his reaction.

Dean ignored his own fluttering heart. "Why would I lie!?"

"I have no idea. That is what scares me."

"Listen dad. That is what the doc told me. I am not lying. Believe me." Deans voice was expressive.

"Maybe we should call the doctor over, just to clarify things." John said innocently, watching Dean for a reaction.


	24. Chapter 24

OKAY, here is a super-shortchapter for all of you. It deals with Dean finally revealing what the hell is wrong with him. I know a lot of people wanted to know.

disclaimer- i own nothing.

a/n: i may have taken some liberties with how long a sedative keeps you asleep. Sorry, but I think it will be good for the drama-angst in the next chapters.

chapter 23

Deans mind, in the face of his fathers veiled threat, went blank. For once in his life he could not think of what to say. Possible solutions came into his mind, sure. Nearly 12 years of

hustling had seen to it that he had an excellent bank on hand if he should ever need them. However, each one of them died on his lips. He did not want to lie to his dad. Heck, he

was not even sure that his dad would believe him.

John frowned at Dean. He turned and looked over to the nurses station and then around the room. Dean knew he was looking for his doctor. John finally found him, three beds

down talking to the family of a girl. He looked calm and sympathetic. Dean saw the older woman he was talking to, the girls mother he guessed, clap her hand to her face and burst

into tears. The older man beside her tightened his grip around her arm.

Dean wondered what they had just been told. John contented himself with trying to catch the mans eye. When that did not work, he raised himself slowly from his seat. He looked

at Dean as if to say-_ this is your last __chance._

_Go ahead!_ Dean met his gaze calmly. John clucked softly. He made it three steps before Dean, haggerdly uttered "Stop dad."

John turned and was slightly scared by the tansformation. Deans confidence was draining out of him. He could see his face becoming paler. Fear radiated off him.

"Why son?" JOhn moved back to his seat anyway. Looking at Dean and seeing the change, made him believe he was probably going to need to sit down..

"I'll tell you." Deans eyes flickered down to his hands. John noted this. His son never refused to look him in the eye-ever, even when he was a kid.He resisted the urge to hug Dean,

instead he asked,

"So you are saying to me that you lied before?"

Dean nodded slowly.

"Why son?" John tried to make his voice as gentle as possible and avoid lacing it with the fear he felt.

"It was not real then. I could control it." Deans voice was heavy. John wondered if his son was crying. John moved closer. He gently squeezed Deans shoulder.

"Then tell me son. What is wrong with you?"

Dean looked up. His eyes were bright. He looked at John briefly and gave him a small smile. John nodded encouragingly. Dean looked away. He picked a spot on the far wall and

began talking to that.

"You already know, at least you partly know. The demon-bitch who was with me after the crash fed me all these drugs. According to the doc, this forced me into several heart

attacks." JOhn nodded in confirmation.

"Apparently these attacks damaged my heart even more than they thought.The condition I've got, the doc called it something, I can not remember though," Dean stopped and took

a breath. When he started again, his voice was filled with emotion. It sounded like every word he spoke hurt him.

"To fix it, I have to see if I am eligible to get a machine in my heart. A machine! And i may not even get that. I..might have to get a transplant...someone elses heart, inside of me."

John was stunned into silence. Dean looked at him. He was completely vulnerable. John could see his fear, his loyalty, his anger and his confusion. He was looking at John waiting

for him to answer.

"Oh son" John managed after a second.

"Dean."

_Oh please no!_ He prayed. He looked over.Sam was awake, bleary eyed but awake.

His family knew now. Dean knew that he should feel relived. All he felt was tired.


	25. Chapter 25

HEY, I KNOW A LOT OF PEOPLE MAY NOT LIKE WHAT I GAVE DEAN. HOWEVER, I DECIDED TO TAKE IT FROM SEASON 1 (THE EPISODE FAITH AND NO, THERE WILL BE NO FAITH HEALER!)

DISCLAIMER-I OWN NOTHING!

CHAPTER 25

No one spoke. The tension between the three men raised up a notch. Sam looked from Dean (who looked vaguely like a deer caught in the headlights) to his dad (who smiled

encouragingly.) and his eyelids drooped. Dean watched him for a few minutes, as did John. The older man laid a restraining hand on Deans wrist. Only after the few minutes, when it

was clear that Sam had gone back to sleep, did he lift his wrsit. Dean released his breath which he did not know that he had been holding.

"With any luck he did not hear and if he did, he might not remember," John said, more to himself. John collected himself and gave Deans hand a squeeze.

"I know that this is hard for you but can I ask you to keep this from Sammy? For as long as possible?"

Dean chuckled mirthlessly. "It will be kind of hard but yeah I will. Sammy does not need this to deal with as well. He has to concentrate on getting better. Pastor Jim told me." Dean

explained. John nodded.

"We will tell him eventually but for now we'll concentrate on his recovery and fixing your heart." John made it sound awfully simple to Dean. Infuriatingly simple, like the last three

hours he had spent obsessing meant nothing.

"It is not as simple as 'fixing it' dad." Deans voice was quiet.

"It is Dean," John voice was quietly confident. Dean was glad of it. At least one of them was upbeat. "You have a problem. There is a way to fix it."

"They will put a machine in my heart dad. My heart! That is not the worst of it. If that does not work- I have to get a heart transplant." Dean's voice was quiet but loaded with

emotion. John nodded. "I would have to wait for someone to die so I could have their heart. I don't know if I can do that."

Johns heart was pounding. He did not let his fear show. His voice was calm. "yeah you can. None of those options are good, but it not an either or or situation. Dean you have no

choice. If you do not want to take someone elses heart, you are being stupid. You do so much good in your life. You save people Dean. You kill all the supernatural sons-a-bitch's

before they kill any other innocent people. I'm sorry if I do not care were your lifeline comes as long as it comes. You do not deserve to die."

"So it is me rather than them. I do not know if I can deal with that."

John frowned. "Quit being a martyr. Your are getting each and every surgery you need. Then you are going to get well. You are going to help me and Sammy hunt. You are going to

be happy,"John stopped for a second, "If you do not want to do everything you need to do to get better for us, do it for your mom. I know she does not want to see you for a long

while son. Live for her Dean."

"What would my life be like? I'd be Joe Normal dad. I do not know if I could live with that"

John was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really think that i will be able to hunt? I will be useless to you and Sam. What kind of big brother will I be? How will i protect him?" Deans voice was bitter. "What will I

do?"


	26. Chapter 26

chapter 26

disclaimer- i own nothing.

hope you all like it.

_He was not alone. Even if he was not as trained as he was it was obvious from the breathing. It sounded ridiculuosly loud in his ears. It rang in them, echoing around _

_t__he dark._

_"Hello?" He called out. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness but he could not make out the owner of the mysterious voice._

_"Sammy.." Sam spun around, instantly alert. The owner of the voice, a confident man about his fathers age, watched him calmly._

_"You again." The man nodded. Sam took a step back, annoyed that he was alone. He would feel so much better to have Dean beside him, backing him up, even if it _

_was only his dream._

_"Young people these days. Such ingratitude. I come to help you. You were on the verge of dying boy and I brought you back. A little thank you would be nice." The _

_mans eyes flashed yellow for a split second. Sam saw __but dismissed it as the mans eyes were normal again. _

_"Are dreams even allowed to correct you?"_

_"I am not a dream." The man was beginning to sound annoyed. "I am not even a nightmare." He chuckled slightly. Sam cocked his head inquistivly. The man shook _

_his head. "Inside joke." Sam frowned. __"but you are dreaming. I just sort of, crashed the party." Sam nodded in spite of himself. He saw the logic. The last time he _

_was awake he was confined to a bed. Now he was up and walking._

_"So," Sam offered, "are you here to show me the errors of my life? To make me change my ways?" Sam chuckled._

_"Everybody is a comedian," the man grumbled. His eyes flashed and Sam saw a hidden anger. His smile disappeared. The man raised his hand, palm facing Sam. He _

_was thrown backwards until his back hit a wall._

_"Oomph." Sam was surprised. Since when do dreams attack you? he wondered. He tried to move but could not. It was as though his limbs were held down by an _

_invisible hand. A very strong invisible hand. Sam grunted __with the effort. The man sauntered over to him, talking as he went. Sam glared at him, the most he could do _

_to show his displeasure._

_"Sammy...Sammy...Sammy. I saved you, as I told you before, because I can not let you die yet. You are going to be too valuable to me and my kind." The man smiled _

_and Sam scrunched his face in confusion. The __man took a seat that Sam did not even see was there. He turned it around and the back faced Sam. He sat down and _

_eyed Sam. His gaze reminded Sam of one looking at their prey. It was one of hunger. Sam did __not like it. It made him feel nervous. The urge to see Dean increased._

_"Where are my manners?" The man slapped his head. "I know all about you but you probably do not know all that much about me," He squinted at Sam, "then _

_again, you probably do. I am the guy that killed your __momma..."_

_The mans hand brushed his forehead. Sam gasped at the revelation. His eyes widened. He could not do much more. The scene disolved around him. The man _

_disappeared._

_XXX_

_"Where the hell am I now?" he asked out loud.As he squinted around he could feel his head swimming with the "revelation" the man had unveiled. Do I believe it? _

_He wondered. Deans voice came into his head._

_...demons lie..._

_He shook his head. He looked around. It was a hospital room, he recogised instantly. God knows he had seen enough of them lately. He looked onto the only bed in _

_the room. He gasped. Dean lay there, imobile. __Sam could __barely see his face through all the machinery hooked up to his face. It was obvious Dean was in bad shape._

_"DEAN!" he shouted. Hearing himself echo, he looked up. He saw another version of himself. This version looked healthy, apart from the look of fear on his face. _

_Between him and Dean stood a man. Sam squinted __and recognised the same man from before. The other Sam could sense danger. He watched himself take a step _

_forward, unwilling to leave Dean. __The man smiled. He repeated the action from before. Sam watched himself being thrown across the room to end up in a built in _

_wardrobe. He saw himself shake his head, dazed. He watched himself leap forward to __try to get out of the wardrobe. The doors slammed closed. Sam could hear _

_knocking and pounding. The demon man smiled at the wardrobe. It burst into flames. The fire roared and Sam could feel the heat on the flames._

_Sam was dying. He was watching himself dying! He fell to his knees in anguish, unable to do anything but watch._

Sams return to consciousness was rough. The effects of the sedative combined with what he had seen weighed on him. Could he really believe what he had seen? Did it mean

anything? Was it like the dreams he had about Jessica? Sam wanted to do something, even if it just turned out to be a dream He looked over. He could see his brother and father

beside him. The sight of them comforted him. He would never admit that he was scared, but wanted to call out to them and tell them what he had seen. All he could manage was

a whispered "Dean."

He saw Dean look over. _He looks scared _he realised. Sam wondered what was the matter. He fell uneasily back to sleep a few seconds later.

_I wonder what I will see next?_ Was his final thought as his mind went blank.


	27. Chapter 27

disclaimer- i own nothing.

hope you all like this chapter.

Chapter 27.

Sam woke to the sound of his brothers mumbling. It took him a few seconds to realise were he was, confused by the unfamiliarness of his surroundings and groggy by the

sedative.

"Dean?" He asked. It took him a second to realise what was happening. His brother was asleep and dreaming. He was obviously having a nightmare. _Hopefully not the same _

_nightmare I just had,_ for that is what Sam put it down to. There was a sheen of sweat across Deans forehead. Sam could see it clearly in the dimmed light of the hospital ward.

He looked around, searching for someone to help. The chair between them was empty so he could only assume that his father had left when he was asleep. Looking at Dean,

who was clearly in distress, killed him. He could not get to his brother and help him.

"Dean?" he tried again. this time louder. He grunted when he got no response.

"Hey, my brother needs help. Help!" He called as loud as could. He noticed the various gazes of the patients turn to him. He did not care. He was focused on the three people

that were heading towards his bed. Two in scrubs and one in a white coat.

"What is the matter?" the middle aged woman in white coat reached him first. The younger man and woman coming in a close second.

"He, he won't wake up. I think he's having a nightmare."

The woman nodded. She knelt before Dean, gently nudging his shoulder with one hand and reaching behind her with the other. The young blonde haired woman in the scrubs

handed her the chart. She flicked it over and read the notes. "Hmm." Sam frowned at the noise. That was not a good noise. "Hey, hey. What is wrong with him?"

The woman straightened up. "Dean?" She ignored Sam. "Get his temp." She took out a torch and lifted Deans eyelids. She shone the light into them. Sam watched anxiously,

more confused than ever.

"How longs he been like this?" she finally turned around. "Since I woke up about 10 minutes ago." he answered faintly.

"His temps and heart rate are elevated. I am not comfortable with this, with his condition, so I going to order some tests to check for any infections."

_With his condition. _"What do you mean, in his condition?"

The doctor held Sams gaze. There was a tense silence. " Well his heart is very weak at the moment, as you know. He may be at risk of a heart attack if we allow this to continue

untreated. We need to get his heart rate stabilised."

"heart attack?" Sam echoed stupidly, "But he is just having a nightmare."

The woman shook her head in sympathy. "When we get the test results back we will know more."

"Dean is too young to be having a heart attack," he shook his head, "God, how will I tell him?" He could feel himself close to tears. Sam dreaded that conversation. Dean was the

most lively, athletic person he knew.

How could he tell him that he could possibly have heart attack?

When he looked up again, he and Dean were alone again. The doctor and the man in scrubs had moved off. Sam did not really care where. The blonde woman lingered beside

his bedside. She was weaving on the spot, clearly wanting to speak. She kept trying to catch Sams eye. Sam smiled and she took it as her cue to talk.

"hey, just wanted to say that, well, it sucks about your brother. I got a brother. I hate the guy, I mean he bugs the life out of me, but I love him and I would do anything for him."

Sam nodded. "It would kill me to see him like this. So, I just wanted to say, I am sorry. We'll do everything we can. Doctor Murton is the best. She is a bitch but she is the best."

"Thanks," Sam murmured. The woman half smiled and turned. "Wait." She stopped.

"What's your name?"

"I am Meg." The woman smiled.

**a/n: yeah, it is the Meg from season 1 :)**


	28. Chapter 28

disclaimer- i own nothing.

i hope you like this chapter. Okay I am goig to rush things a little to end this story

chapter 28

John came half an hour later. He was quiet and resolute, his face set in a grim line. Sam did not call him, he assumed that one of the

nurses called him. He did not really care. His attention was fixed onto the curtains or rather what was behind it. The doctor, Sam

could not remember her name, had drawn them around Dean ("to give him some privacy") and disappeared behind them too. Sam

could see her feet, and that of the pretty blonde, as they worked on Dean.

"Something is really really wrong with him dad, something with his heart" Sam refused to look at John. He talked to the curtain,

unwilling to watch Johns reaction. He did not want to be the one to devestate his own father. "Yeah." Said John softly. There was a

touch of defeat in his voice. His gaze never flickered off the curtain for more than a few seconds.

"Is that all you can say dad?Huh?!" Sam coughed a little. He brought his mouth up to calm his breathing. John's eyes sparkled. Sam

could not tell what he was thinking. With his face unreadable.

"What can I do Sammy! What do you want me to do? Just tell me for christ's sake."

Sam sank back onto his pillows, receeding away from John's angry words. His father softened after a second. His voice was quieter

the next time he spoke. "I'm sorry Sam. I am just so tired. I have no idea what to do.

I do not know how much more I can take. Sammy, I dunno. I can't...lose...either of you. Do you have any idea how hard it is to

watch you boys lying there in front of me. It shouldn't be like this. It is killing me." John swallowed a sob. "Do you know how much it

killed me when in those first few days. I had abandoned you both. The last words I said to you... the last time I saw you. You might

have died thinking I wasn't proud of you.

Thinking that I hated you. I d..do..don't Sammy. I am so proud of you. My boy got into college. And now Dean-" John gestured

helplessly towards the curtain. He buried his head in his hands. Sam was surprised, to say the least. He had grown up with the

upspoken rule that open emotion was his enemy.Emotion was a liabilaty. And now, John had broken down in front of him. He

wondered what he should do. He was used to a different father. The stoic and resolute father of the past. This man was vulnerable,

emotional and more human. Should he comfort him? Give him a hug (he dismissed that idea quickly)? Instead Sam settled for a

gentle pat on the shoulder. It was quick and simple and conveyed all the messages he wanted to say. _He sympathised with him and _

_was there for him._

He could not put this into words though. His throat was still tight with fear for Dean.

Doctor Murton reappeared a few minutes later. John stood up straighter. Sam could feel his own heart begin to pound harder. She

looked confused. Her eyes kept darting back to the folder in her hands. A strand of hair had fallen across her face.

"What-"

"What is it?"

"We haven't managed to stabilise your brother at the moment, I am sorry. We are working extremely hard on it but it is difficult."

Sam sensed there was something that she was holding back. Her frown which was still evident on her forehead. Sam looked at his

father. He had noticed the same thing as well.

"The thing is, I was reviewing all of your brothers test results. It's confusing. But I've double checked. I am absolutely sure. Your

brother's heart stopped twice since the crash-"

Sam gasped. The doctor nodded and continued. "-and this would naturally add some stress to his heart. But I see no reason for his

diagnosis. A possible heart transplant? His stats and vitals indicate the opposite.

I believe that there has been a problem with your brothers diagnosis. Apart from the rough and stress that he has been through, he's

a perfectly healthy young man."

"Well, why is he like this? Why is he sick?"

Doctor Murton shook her head. "that's the thing- I have no idea. I've run every test I can think of. Officially I can say, there is no

medical reason why your brother is like this. By all accounts he should be sitting up in bed. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's

cursed or something."

Sam and John nodded simultaneously. "Or something," the agreed grimly.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: i own nothing.

Thanks for the reviews.

Chapter 29

Needless to say, John left soon after the doctors announcement. He had made his excuses, which had sounded feeble to Sam who

knew better, leaving his two sons alone. Sam did not mind. He did not try to stop him. He recognised that look in Johns eyes after

the doctor had mentioned a possible "curse". It was a gleam of triumph. Sam could relate. Now, after days of feeling helpless and

inability, his father could do something to help one of his children. Sam was grateful for that, knowing that John would help to sort

Dean out as best he could. Sam had been alone for two hours. The curtains were still pulled around Dean. He was still confined to

the hospital bed. He was not worried about his brother now. If someone, and he had a good idea who, was doing that to his brother

it would be unlikely that they would kill him until they'd revealed their agenda. The fifteen-odd years hunting had taught him that a lot

of the things they hunted loved to brag about the evil they had commited. His mind was not concerned with that. He was thinking of

the "dream" he had had. The one in which he had seen himself burn in a wardrobe with Dean laying immobile on a hospital bed. It

was too much of a concidence. First this dream then the situation with Dean. They had to be related. If he accepted that the dream

as a reality then the demon was coming for them. He tried not to notice the wardrobe at the end of room. He would tell his father

when he returned. He was not looking forward to that conversation. In his dream, he and Dean had been alone with the thing and his

father was nowhere to be seen. This was one dream he could not ignore. If the demon was resurfacing, he had to be there to fight.

He had to be there for his father. And for Dean.

"Dean," he whispered to the curtain, wondering if he Dean could hear him at some level. He hoped that he could.

"You don't need to worry. I am going to fix everything for you. If that bastard is coming for us, I am not going down without a fight."

Sam smiled, imagining Deans reaction. Telling him this way saved a massive headache.

He was resolutely ignoring all thoughts about the start of his dream..._You__ are going to be too valuable to me and my kind..._

_"_Don't worry, I am just going to use the spell... you remember the hunt when I was twelve. The possesed guy with the super

strength. He was beating our asses until dad used that strength spell. It'll be easy.Last minute schemes always work out for you all,

hopefully it'll be the same for me."

Sam stopped talking. He concentrated, trying to remember the spell. He longed for his laptop at that point. It would make this so

much easier. However, he did not have that and did not think his dad would willingly give him it.

"Come on.." he muttered, aware of the danger closing in.

The words on the screen in front of John Winchester were blurring. He rubbed them and sighed. He had no idea were to start

looking for the evil hurting his child. He was itching to hunt. He had spent the past two hours checking each of the staff and patients

on the ward for any irregularities. He hadn't found any. Frustratingly, the ward in which his sons were housed, also served as a

temporary home to three single mothers, a drunk who'd wrapped his car aroud a pole and a comatose eighty year old. Nothing out

of the ordanary. He resisted the urge to slam the keyboard. It was very tempting.

SOMETHING WAS COMING AFTER HIS SON!

Every urge in his body, every instinct inbuilt in his mentality was telling him to fight. They were screaming at him to protect his

children. But he did not know what was happening. Something was going after

Dean! His cell phone rang, it buzzed around the table just beside his hand. He took it wearily, checked the ID and flipped it open.

"Missouri" he greeted, not bothering to mask the fear in his voice. Missouri would have heard it anyway.

"John Winchester. You need to get to your boys."

John frowned. The last time he had spoken to Missouri Sammy was still at Stanford.

"Wh-"

"Don't waste time man. It's coming for them! They're in danger. You have to stop it."


	30. Chapter 30

Crashing planes Chapter 30.

OWN NOTHING. SORRY FOR THE WAIT FOR THE UPDATE. I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT. SORRY ABOUT THE SHORTNESS and the spelling of pyhsic

Sam did not notice he had fallen asleep until he found himself being roughly shaken awake. His father stood over him, worry etched on his face.

"Dean?" he struggled to awaken and his mind was sluggish. His head whipped around and he noticed Dean. In exactly the same position as before. Immobile and pale. He

looked almost like a doll. A replica of the real Dean Sam was terrified he was losing.

"He's the same," John laid a hand on Sams shoulder to calm him down.

"What about you? Did you find anything out?" Sam stood up and gave his brothers hand a squeeze.Hang in there Dean! he urged. He hoped that he knew they were fighting for

him.

"No," John admitted, "Nothing." He looked defeated for a fraction of a second.

"There has to be something. Something you just haven't found yet." Sam whispered, almost desperately, "Dean can't be sick. You heard the doctor. It has to be something doing

it to him." Sam glanced at Dean.

"Don't worry, we'll figure out something. I just need your help."

Sam raised his eyebrows. The great John Winchester asking for help? It intrigued him as much as it terrified him. "Of course, I'll go through every book, every contact-"

John raised a hand to stop him. "That's not what I mean."

"Then what dad? Whats going on?"

"I got a phonecall tonight from a very old friend. You would not know her but she is an extremely powerful pyhsic."

"Okay," Sam nodded, seeing where this was going.

"And she told me that you boys were in trouble. Something was coming for you. Not me. You. I made a few calls and I'm pretty sure I have a girl two states over that can help

Dean."

"A girl?"

"A witch," Even as John said it he looked troubled.

"Dad?!" John cut him off before the protests had even spilled out of his mouth. "I know this is stupid and extremely risky. I know his life is on the line and if this is the wrong call

Dean may pay for it but it's the only thing I can think of, especially after what Missouri has said."

"But dad," Sam protested, unable to give any other alternate arguments. He was aware of how childish it sounded. However, he could feel the danger drawing in. His dads announcement had made it an all to painful reality

"Sam," John warned. Sam fell silent. "Dad, about Missouri,"

"Don't worry, I'm going to destroy anything that-"

"I've something to tell you."

R+R :)


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: i own nothing.

Another chapter, a different format though. Hope you like it.

Chapter 31

"Is it done?" The first voice was cold and quietly sinister.

"Yes." The answering voice was female and ten times more human than the first. "I

cannot believe how easy it was. I just walked in there and did my thing and noone

stopped me. It is true, guys are stupid when it comes to a pretty face.I would have

thought, with their history, that they would have been a little more careful."

"Tell me something useful, something that I can use."

"Dean Winchester is fading. The humans here don't know what's going on- they're still

running tests. As if they'll find anything." The second voice became contempouos. "He'll

be dead before the week ends."

"Are you sure the other two do not suspect anything.?"

"Positive, though Sam might be close to figuring it out."

"What makes you say that?"

"He hasn't been bugging the doctors. Normally he'd be on them, bombarding them with

constant questions. He's ignoring them now, sticking close to Dean."

There was a pause then the first voice decided, "That does not matter. I sent out so

much conflicting information to the boy, it'll be far too late before he figures it out."

"Conflicting information?"

"Dreams. Premonitions I've been throwing at him . All false of course. Breadcrumbs to

lead him down a false path."

"That's good. He has no idea of the real plan?"

"No. Not a clue."

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

"Inform me of any changes."

"I will father."

Meg smiled and stood up.

Happy Christmas :)


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer- I own nothing

Disclaimer- I own nothing.

Sorry for the wait between updates but I am trying to get my ideas together and get this story finally finished.

Chapter 32

Sam did not know that he had fallen asleep until he woke up. His eyes snapped open and he immediately looked to his side, to Dean. But he was not there. Or he

himself was not there would be more accurate. Someone had moved him when he was asleep.

He was still in the hospital, he was certain of that, but he had been moved into a private room and, by looking out of the window, several hours had passed since

he and his father had spoken.

As he struggled with the wires attached to him and tried to gather his strength together to sit up, his mind whirred over the information he knew and had found

out. The same thing that had murdered his mother while she was in his nursery cursed Dean. And the dream he had had. It all fit together. The fight had finally

come to them. The Demon was making his move. The thought of which terrified the life out of him.

"Hello?" he yelled, not able to sit up much more than a few centimetres. It was unbelievably frustrating not to be at his peak at a time like this. Getting no reply, he

scrabbled around, looking for a call button or something to get attention.

"Argh!" he growled. He could find nothing and he was slick with sweat at the effort. Where was Dean? Was his dad with him?

Sam was very afraid for his brother and he desperately wanted to see him know. Hell, at this point he would be happy to know where his brother was, even if he

wasn't any better than the last time he had seen him.

He still couldn't believe that he had fallen asleep.

"You're awake then."

Sam looked up. A nurse stood in the doorway, with her back leaning against the doorframe confidently, watching him coolly.

"My brother," he said quickly, "My dad?"

"easy tiger," she took a few steps into the room closing the door behind her, "Dean got a little worse so your dad just felt compelled to sign him out AMA."

"How do you know my brothers name? How worse did he get? When did they leave?"

"You don't remember me? Huh! Those drugs really did a number on you. I'm one of the nurses on your brother's case. I'm Meg."

She flashed him a smile that wasn't returned.

"How bad was he?"

"Calm-"

"No!" he shouted, forcing himself up on one arm, "Tell me about my brother."

"I hear he's a real jackass."

"Excuse me."

Meg shrugged her shoulders, "Just what I heard," she said carelessly. "okay. You want to know about you're brother, I know you want to hear some good news."

Sam was very aware that something was not right and his own helplessness.

"You're brother took a "turn for the worse" about an hour after I gave you that little handy pill. You are cute but boy you are much less work when you are out. Anyhow, daddy dearest, seeing his oldest in such pain and danger, decides to take said child on a nice long journey to get a cure. Leaving his youngest with an imbecile who believed every lie that came out of my mouth. I tell you, it's very easy to steal a person in a hospital when you are a nurse."

Sam's eyes widened and Meg, with one hand, pushed him squarely on the chest forcing him back into the bed.

"Yes Sam," she said with a wide smile on her face, "You are my prisoner. And no, there will be no one to save you so just get that right out of your head. Big brother will last for about two states and daddy dearest, so overcome with guilt, that he wont even think to come back for little Sam."

Meg smiled.

TBC


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer- I own nothing

Disclaimer- I own nothing

Just another wee update, hope you all like it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and who have read this.

Chapter 33

Dean was dying and John knew it. He knew, even with his foot to the floor, that he would not make it in time. Dean was laying in the back seat, his feet trailing on the floor, and had not moved since John had lifted him there a while ago. Even over the roar of the engine all he could hear was his struggle for breath.

Had he done the right thing? He wondered for the millionth time. Dean was in danger and he was doing what he thought was right. But he was in pain. He heard it in every breath his son took.

"FUCK!" He cursed, slowing down and swinging his car to the side of the road. He turned off the engine and stared out into the darkness. "Damn, damn, damn!" He pounded on the steering wheel.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. A car passed, its headlights blinding him temporarily and John slowly opened Deans door. And there he was. John knelt down beside him, kissing Dean gently on the head. His hair was soaking.

The curse, or whatever it was that had befallen him, was working a number on Dean. His face was slick with sweat (making his face almost shine in the darkness), his eyes were closed and his mouth continuously moving. His face was like stone. And he seemed to have shrunk and, to John, looked a lot like a little boy again.

"My boy. Son, please. Please fight. You cannot die. I know you are in pain but please. I'm begging you."

John sighed, looked to the ground, took a shaky breath and continued, "I don't know what to say to you Dean. I know, that on some level, you can hear me and it kills me that I can't think of anything to comfort you. I'm your dad and I can't even think of a few simple words."

John stopped, wiped his eyes and continued, "But that is my issue. That's something I have to work on. All I can say is, I know that you are far gone and I know you are probably scared. Hang on kid. Hang on for me. Hang on for Sam. You're my boy."

John Winchester stopped talking and did something he had not done in a long time. He prayed to his wife, the beautiful Mary. Prayed for the life of his son. And for the survival of his family.

It was to be a very long night.


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer- I own nothing

Chapter 34

_"I can't believe Dad left your number on his phone," Sam wanted to say this but instead settled for a look at his brother. He knew that _

_Dean felt the same. He was shocked. They had just found out that their father, the same man that they had been searching for for bloody _

_months, was not dead in some ditch and had not bothered to call them. He had basically started advertising them for jobs. It was so like _

_him! He really wanted to get his hands on that man. And after listening to that message, he was not sure he would be giving him a hug._

_With a sigh and a slight shake of his head he followed his brother and slipped into his seat._

_"Sammy?"_

_He looked over and found his brother in a rare moment, his hand frozen over the keys and a look in his eyes. "Yeah Dean?" he asked _

_quietly. After a moments pause and with a quick grin, he answered,_

_"Hell of a day,"_

_Sam smiled to himself. As the Impala roared to life and with the blare of the rock from the speakers, Sam thought about the day they had _

_had. They had come within seconds of a plane crashing; exorcised a demon on said plane, his brother had faced his greatest fear and all _

_this stuff about their father. They had got through it all. As impossible as it seemed, when he listed it all like that. Each thing sounded _

_crazier than the last. Yet, here they were, back in the Impala and roaring down the highway. Just like always. He smiled and looked over at _

_his brother, whose eyes were on the road._

_"Yeah. That sure was."_

"Sam"

"Sammy."

Who was that, he wondered, as he struggled to return to consciousness. It had to be Dean, he thought. He smiled and opened his eyes.

And stopped smiling. Meg stood over him, her hand on his shoulder told him who was calling him a second ago.

"What? How?"

He was still in his hospital bed and, amazing as it seemed, he had fallen asleep.

"Drugs really are as effective as restraints," Meg said lightly, in a tone that one would use when talking about the weather.

Sam growled. It was about all he could do. His limbs were like lead, impossible to move. He lay there on the bedspread, as helpless as a kitten. Well, he decided, if he could not move, he would use what skills remained to him.

"Kidnapping someone in a hospital is really not the best plan."

"How so?" Meg asked, seemingly delighted that he was speaking. A smile alighted her lips and she leaned in closer to him.

"Public place. Lots of people. Lots of witnesses."

"How long do you think you've been in here Sam?"

Meg smiled when he did not answer. "Sam?" she pressed.

"It doesn't matter," she stood up, "We won't be here that long anyway."

Sam filed this piece of information away. Meg turned away, slipping her phone out of her pocket and flipping it open. Sam watched as she nodded, listened to her "yes, yep" and then her final "bye."

Meg turned, a huge smile on her face, "It's done Sam. Your brothers dead."


	35. Chapter 35

Another wee update.

Nothing is owned by me.

Chapter 35

Sam was thinking.

First things first, he didn't believe the demon bitch or whatever was inside the girl that Dean was dead. He was probably looking for him, getting pissed off that he had managed to

get himself into trouble.

"Your brother is dead?"

Yeah, right. Nothing can kill Dean. He was sure of that.

He knew he had to escape. That was the first thing on his list. He would have to get out of this and get to dad or someone that could help him. There was no point in making any

noise. That would bring an innocent person into here and probably to their death.

And the bitch knew it. She was leaning on the arm of the chair, watching him with a smile on her face. Sam was getting annoyed with this whole less being less than healthy thing. He

was itching to be able to be able to get up out of the bed and do some damage.

He closed his eyes.

"You are very quiet, aren't you?"

Sam didn't answer. He was willing his arms to move and his fists to clench. There was nothing.

"Are you not curious as to how he died?" Her voice was silky now. Sam stiffened but didn't open his eyes nor answer her.

"He is dead," she whispered, correctly reading his tense posture. "I am not lying about that. I gave him a drug, an unusual and nifty little drug that would discreetly lower his heart rate. It would lower heart rate and less oxygen getting into the body and up to the brain. I had added by own, special little concoction. By the end he would be chocking in his own

blood. He would have been in so much pain that he would be begging to die. Begging to go to his mommy."

"SHUT UP!"

Meg smiled, happy to have gotten a reaction. She widened her smile when she saw him glaring at her, unable to move. She got up and walked across the room, bending down and

whispering into his ear,

"It's good to know that there's some fight still left in you. You'll need it. Trust me on that."

The door opened and a pool of artificial, unnatural light fell on Sam. Sam wasn't facing the door. He couldn't turn to look.

"Oh sorry," the newcomer, a woman, said. "I thought that this room was empty. I was told that it was empty."

Meg stood up and shot Sam a smile. He knew what was coming.

"No." He managed.

"What, Sam?"

"We are going to move soon. X ray. We should be leaving soon."

Meg hesitated and gave Sam a long look. He looked back desperately. "Don't." he mouthed. Meg narrowed her eyes, "Please." He conceded.

Ten minutes later.

She was moving him. It must have been her idea of joke. She was taking the long road to the car park, through the crowded halls and wards. She knew, after the near miss in the

room, he wouldn't say anything. He could practically feel her smile as she wheeled him. She had him on a wheelchair, wrapped up in a blanket. He was still struggling with the effects

of the drugs. Under the blanket he was cuffed to the arm of the chair.

They were at the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. She was actually so comfortable she had started to hum. The doors tinged open,

"Bobby."


	36. Chapter 36

Hey! Last chapter, I have to or this will go on forever.

I know that in the television show they don't know Bobby, but shh! I love Bobby. He has to be here! Let's just pretend they do…

I own nothing!!

When the elevator door opened, four things happened simultaneously. Sam exclaimed, "Bobby!" extremely glad to see him and unable to help himself. It's a breathy sound, barely

audible over the general hum of the ward.

The second, Bobby looks down. He has clearly heard Sam. Even for a hunter, his hearing is excellent. He starts to react, seeing Sam in front of him wrapped up in the wheelchair.

Sam mouths "SHUT UP. NO!." Bobby's mouth closes and for the briefest second he looks confused. He takes another look at Sam's face and seems to understand. He understands, at

that second, the best thing he can do is be quiet. He shifts slightly on his feet and folds his arms across his chest.

This whole exchange lasts less than ten seconds. Meg doesn't seem to notice, nor give any sign that she has noticed anything.

"Going in," Bobby asks Meg, keeping his face away from Sam's.

"Yes, please." She answers. Her high, girly voice grates on Sam. Sam doesn't mind being wheeled into the elevator. Just having Bobby at his side, knowing he was there was just enough.

He smiled to himself.

"Nice day," Meg smiled. Bobby nodded.

The elevator tinged and the doors began to close. Sam was already planning ahead. Once the doors were closed they would have her trapped. And then once they dealt with her they could find Dean, then their dad. It would all work out.

Then Meg reached over in front of him, pushed the button and the doors re opened. "Come on Sam," she whispered into his ear. "We'll find another way."

"Hey," Bobby roared, surging forward and pulling at her arms. Sam was able to turn his head in time to see Bobby thrown back against the furthest wall of the elevator.

"BOBBY!"

"Once second Sam," Meg reached down and gave him a kiss of the cheek. He squirmed, reached out and grabbed her wrist with his free hand.

"There's life in you yet," she smiled; pleased he was able to fight. Bobby, recovered, pulled himself up quickly, took his knife from his jean lining and charged forward.

Meg dealt with Sam first; she brought her hand up, wrapped her fingers around his neck and squeezed. She squeezed hard, long enough for him to loosen his grip. She took the sides of his wheelchair and threw him back, just in time to spin around and grab Bobby's hand, mid air.

Sam couldn't move. But he could still speak. He watched as Meg and Bobby struggled. He was dimly aware of someone screaming behind him.

He started to chant. In Latin. The spell to exorcise a demon. He spoke quickly and in a low voice.

Bobby lost the fight. He was thrown against the back wall of the elevator again with a flick of her hand. And this time he didn't back up.

"Bobby!" he shouted, interrupting himself mid chant.

He blinked and she was in front of him. She clamped a hand over his mouth. "Clever." She dug her fingernails into his cheek. Sam struggled, whipping his head back and trying to get out of her grip.

"You can't talk if you don't have a tongue."

She didn't lift her hand nor ease the pressure. Sam breathed quickly through his nose.

"Try that again and I'll slit your friends throat." Her eyes flashed. "Do you understand?"

Sam glared.

"Do you understand?!"

"_Get the hell off of him!"_

Meg was thrown off her feet.

"Dean." Sam looked around. There was no one, but he had heard his voice. Which would mean…

Oh God.

Sam sagged in the chair, unable to move.

His brother can't be dead, Sam tells himself.

Yet what he is seeing is telling him the opposite. Meg is being thrown around the room by an angry unseen force.

"Dean!!" He yells, unable to stop himself.

Meg looks up from the floor, brings a hand to her bleeding lip and to Sam in the chair. Her lips curl into a smile.

Dean Winchester woke up with a scream. He's lying on the ground; his head is propped on a pillow. His dad is there, leaning over him and asking him if he is okay. He can't answer. All he can think of is what just happened.

Sam in a wheelchair.

Sam being threatened.

Him as a ghost.

The bitch.

Fighting her.

The black smoke.

The screams.

Sam standing up from the wheelchair, his eyes black and grinning.

They were in trouble.

The end


End file.
